Exit Counseling
by x-butterflykisses-x
Summary: "He couldn't shake the sensation that he was dancing on the edge of discovering something..." Cut loose and plagued by fragments of a past life the Winter Soldier searches for answers amongst the remnants of his shattered psyche. A history long forgotten comes crashing to the fore as he struggles to reassert his identity. Post CA:TWS - spoilers therein.
1. Chapter 1

"_May you get to Heaven an hour before the Devil knows you're dead"_ – John Rooney, Road to Perdition

* * *

There were hundreds of them, warm bodies jostling against each other as they moved slowly about the exhibit. Of all the Avengers there was something about him that had captured the public's imagination. Maybe it was because given the choice between super-spies, a giant green monster, a god from another world and a man in an iron suit, you'd always pick the guy who spoke like he stepped out of a Jimmy Stewart movie. There was something wholly reassuring about Steve Rogers

"This must be boring for you Victoria…"

"Sorry Ma'am?"

"Looking after us."

"It's my job Mrs. Wilson."

"Well, I'm sorry we're spending so long here. Tyler's got a little bit of a crush on Captain America."

"Who doesn't?" Victoria deadpanned.

Mrs. Wilson sighed, "What I'd let him do to me. Oh gosh, don't tell Stewart…."

At Mrs. Wilson's confession Victoria's eyebrows shot upwards, before a small smile formed at the corner of her mouth. "I wont tell the Senator - it'll be our little secret."

"You wouldn't – you know – let him do unspeakable things to you? Captain America that is." Mrs. Wilson questioned as she fiddled with the gold pendant that hung around her neck.

"He sure is great to look at Ma'am. But he's too apple pie for me, I'm not sure if he's into 'unspeakable things'."

"So what does it for you then?"

Victoria shrugged, "Butter pecan."

"Oh please don't tell me you like bad boys?"

Victoria laughed, "Maybe I think I can reform them."

"Miller!" A male voice suddenly interrupted their conversation. "Nicorette gum and a black coffee as requested. Man, you are a walking stereotype."

"Thanks Jacobs." Victoria took the proffered coffee gratefully, the hot liquid almost scalding her lips in her haste to drink it.

"Hey Vic!" Tyler yelled, the 10-year-old boy running towards the group of assembled adults.

"Yeah kid?"

"Come on, I want to show you something."

"Sure thing Tyler." Victoria grinned before following the boy into the crowds of milling people.

"I _just _saw him."

"Who?"

"Him!" Tyler exclaimed, a slightly chubby index finger pointing towards the display in front of them.

"Bucky Barnes?" Victoria questioned. "Kid, he died over fifty years ago."

"But I'm telling you, he was right here. He was reading about growing up in Brooklyn with Captain America – he looked sad."

"Maybe it was his grandson or something."

"Bucky didn't have any surviving relatives."

Victoria sighed, the boy's encyclopedic knowledge of all things Captain America whilst for the most part endearing was proving to be a major pain in the ass.

"Ok, so say you did see James Buchanan Barnes…"

"I did see him." Tyler insisted, rolling his eyes at his protector. "Lets go find him!"

"Find him?" Victoria sighed, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Do you think Mr. Barnes would want to be disturbed when he's clearly having a private day out?" Victoria questioned, doing her best to imitate her third grade teacher Ms. Swanson as she attempted to teach Tyler something about privacy.

"We won't be disturbing him, we'll just say hello." Tyler shot back, his eyes bright.

"Fine," Victoria held her hands up, making a great show of her defeat. "We'll go find him."

Turning around she motioned towards Jacobs, "Tyler and I are going on a wild goose chase."

* * *

Having traipsed across several floors of the museum and the search coming up short on all counts, Victoria and Tyler gave up on their hunt for the elusive Bucky Barnes. Yet Tyler continued to insist he'd seen the man until he was blue in the face, tears of frustration threatening to fall as Victoria packed them into the ubiquitous black SUV.

Having handed off to Stevens and Redgrave, Victoria was off the clock, her relief was now tasked with the protection of Senator Wilson and his family. As she did most summer days, Victoria took the scenic walk home. There was something amazing about DC in the twilight. It didn't matter how rough her day had been, it didn't matter if she'd been stuck on babysitting duty. The sunlight reflecting off the water as she stood at the foot of the Lincoln Memorial never ceased to take her breath away.

Pushing herself from off the stone steps Victoria reached into her pocket, her phone alerting her to a call.

"Miller."

"You always answer the phone that way Vic?" An amused voice questioned.

"Force of habit."

"Whatever, you're not on duty at the moment. You gonna come down to the bar?"

Victoria sighed, "I'm pretty beat. I've got to run some errands too but I'll try and make it."

"Well, you know where we'll be."

"Yeah, thanks Mikey."

Victoria tossed the phone into her bag before yanking the strap over her shoulder.

The urge to run straight home, shrug off her suit and lose the Beretta that was snuggly pressed against her body was overwhelming. But the imperative to get new coffee filters was too strong and she soon found herself staring blankly at the magazine stand in a local convenience store.

Various headlines shot out at her, several speculating on just who Captain America was dating. Victoria resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Like the guy had the time to date anyone – saving the world was always going to take precedent over a burgeoning romance. Lost in her own thoughts Victoria barely registered the tinkle of the bell as another person stepped off the street into the shop. It was only when a firm arm gripped her round the middle and pulled her to the floor that she was jolted back into the present.

Eyes darting about the store Victoria quickly honed in on the man currently holding a sawn off shotgun to the head of the cashier.

"You need to get out of here…" Victoria whispered to the person who had pulled her to the floor, her eyes barely skimming over her would be rescuer.

"What? And leave you and the girl here?"

Victoria hissed in frustration, a little girl with bright red hair and a Disney magazine pressed to her chest was crouched in the corner next to the fridges. Reaching under her jacket Victoria pulled her gun.

"Capitol Police. Now really, get out of here. The guy's not covering the back entrance."

The man just rolled his brilliant blue eyes before inching forwards.

"Seriously?" Victoria whispered incredulously, her hand stretching out in a vain attempt to pull the man backwards. But her fingers grappled with air, the man was already out of her reach.

In what seemed like the time it took for Victoria to blink the man was standing behind the gunman. What followed was a love letter to perfectly executed violence. His body uncoiled like a steel spring, every limb singing with the quiet hum of deadly force. In one fluid motion he had disarmed the robber, the shotgun clattering uselessly to the floor. Diving for the firearm Victoria hastily removed the shells, her brown eyes still fixed on the event unfolding in front of her.

Her rescuer's next action was brutal, but economical and effective. Grabbing the thief by the back of the neck he smashed the robber's head into the counter top, rendering him unconscious.

"You alright?" Blue eyes questioned the cashier somewhat gruffly; apparently satisfied with the small nod he was given by way of a response. "Call the police."

Sparing a look for the little girl the man shot out of the back entrance. Resisting the urge to run after the guy Victoria moved towards the small child.

"You ok sweetheart?" Victoria asked, dropping to her knees as she coaxed the red head from out of the corner. "Is your…"

The police officer's question was cut off as a woman rushed towards them, "Lacey!"

"Mom," the little girl whimpered before falling into her mother's embrace.

"Wait for the police," Victoria muttered urgently before springing to her feet.

* * *

Launching herself into a run Victoria powered towards the back, the door still ajar in the still summer heat. Crashing into the alleyway she saw the man at the top of the road, readying himself to turn onto the main thoroughfare, to become lost amongst the endless human traffic.

"Hey!" Victoria called out, half expecting the man to keep going anyway. But to her surprise his shoulders stiffened, his feet stilled.

"What was that? First I tell you to haul ass but you go all Terminator on the guy and then you run away?"

"What can I say, doll? I'm just not very good at taking orders." The man replied, a hint of a smile ghosting his features as he turned to face Victoria. The strangely flat American accent that TV news anchors favoured was gone, something far more regional in its place. New York? Jersey?

"Doll?" Victoria's eyebrow quirked. "Little antiquated don't you think?"

The man sighed, "Something I… picked up." His brow was furrowed, his eyes dark as he suddenly became lost in a private thought.

Memories of girls with bright red lipstick and victory rolls, wearing dresses that had no place in this century suddenly swam across his vision. The sound of brass and percussion filled his ears, blocking out all other noise. The smell of boot polish and cigarette smoke was overwhelming. He could feel the starched collar around his neck, the creases in his trousers were regulation perfect, and chevrons decorated his arms.

"The police will probably want your statement." Victoria prompted, her hand reaching out to touch him but stopped just a hair's breadth from his left shoulder.

Jerking backwards the man fixed her with an indecipherable look. Images of chorus girls and dance halls were wiped away, the last tremulous notes of a clarinet gone as he suddenly registered there was a flesh and blood woman standing in front of him.

"Right, the cops…" the man's gaze slid from Victoria's face, his eyes gaining a far off quality.

He couldn't focus; he was floundering, sinking under the weight of it all.

The smell and heat of New York was overpowering – intoxicating.

He couldn't shake the sensation that he was on the dancing edge of discovering something, events that he had no recollection of ever remembering before were bubbling to the surface.

He was picking up some wheezy kid, not even 120 pounds soaking wet, full of piss and vinegar. That's what he did; he looked out for Steve, since they were kids. But then he fell. And all that was left was blood and cold gun mental between his fingers. He had skills he had no memory of mastering, languages that he had no chance to learn. All he remembered with any certainty was blood and the Red Room.

Victoria frowned and this time she steeled herself to touch the stranger. Her fingers wrapped around the man's left bicep as she attempted to break through whatever spell he was currently under.

The man stiffened, Victoria's warm fingers were curled loosely around his metal arm. A stark reminder of who he was – a blunt instrument – a weapon to be wielded and used for someone else's purposes.

"Hey, you ok?" Victoria questioned, concern written plainly across her face.

"I…" the man stuttered. "I'm fine."

"You sure? You look a little confused. Maybe you should sit down?" Victoria muttered, leaning towards the man.

Her blonde hair fell forwards, tumbling about her shoulders, haloing her face as the dim street light cast a warm glow about her figure. She smelt of jasmine and mint and for one glorious second he thoughts stilled. Her flushed skin and parted lips calling to a part of him buried beneath layers of programming and cracked memories. Something primal stirred in his chest.

One blonde curl nestled against Victoria's cheek; reaching out with his right hand he released the errant strand of hair.

"What's your name?" Victoria questioned, doing her best to ignore the pink hue that coloured her cheeks.

The man blinked, for a second a look of sheer panic shot through his eyes.

"My name's Victoria Miller," the police officer supplied offering her hand.

"Victoria," the man repeated as he accepted her proffered hand but made no move to speak.

"This is the part where you say, 'Hi my name's Ted.' Or whatever."

Various names span through his head. Countless personalities and covers were presenting themselves. And the urge to scream was overwhelming, what kind of person couldn't tell you their name? His memory was unreliable, faulty, defective.

"Hey, you're zoning out on me again." Victoria muttered softly before she stiffened, a somewhat ugly thought darkening her consciousness. "You're not like Jason Bourne or anything are you?"

"What?"

"Well like I said, you destroyed that guy."

The man shook his head. Before taking a shuddering breath, "It's James."

"What like Madonna, no last name?"

The man shook his head, "Barnes."

"Ok." Victoria nodded before stepping away from James. Fishing in her bag for her phone she quickly pulled out the small piece of technology. "So I think maybe…" The words died on her lips. The guy had gone.

Running a hand through her hair Victoria let out a growl of frustration. Forget Jason Bourne the guy was motherfucking Batman.

It was then that his name suddenly dropped into place. The familiarity of it as it rolled off her tongue. She'd spent a whole goddamned afternoon chasing after the guy and he just falls into her lap.

_James Barnes. _

_James Buchanan Barnes. _

"Sonofabitch!"

* * *

**A/N: **First off I was only made aware of US Capitol Police thanks to that rubbish (read amazing) Channing Tatum/Jamie Foxx film and House of Cards (being British, US [federal] law enforcement is somewhat alien to me). I apologise if I have confused what it is that they do. Again, I have virtually no knowledge of firearms so I apologise if a Beretta would not be a standard issued gun.

Now thats out of the way! Hope you enjoyed this and a couple more chapters will be on their way. Please let me know what you think - reviews and thoughts are always appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

"Who are you?"

"No one of consequence."

"I must know."

"Get used to disappointment."

― William Goldman, _The Princess Bride_

* * *

Victoria stared at the detective opposite her. The past five minutes of their conversation written down on the well-thumbed notebook held in front of his nose as he took her statement. There was a particularly large bead of sweat resting on the man's chin, just waiting to drop. His broad forehead had turned an intensely violent shade of purple in the summer heat, the collar of his shirt looking altogether far too tight. Finally the police officer pulled out a greying handkerchief, dragging the threadbare cloth over his face he only succeeded in shifting the moisture.

"So you're saying this guy single handedly took out an armed assailant without hurting himself or any bystanders?"

"Yes," Victoria nodded emphatically. "Ex-military if I had to hazard a guess."

"Did you get a name?" the detective questioned Victoria, his gaze suddenly hard.

Victoria forced herself to remain relaxed, willing herself not to give anything anyway.

"No." She finally replied, tight lipped.

"No?"

"No, I didn't exactly have enough time to interrogate the guy." Victoria lied smoothly, flattening out an imaginary kink in her hair.

"Mrs. Sophie Lewis – the little girl's mother. She said you rushed out of the store pretty fast."

"I wanted to try and find him. But by the time I got outside he was already gone." Victoria sighed, glancing at the cop in front of her with weary eyes. As if it wasn't enough spending a horribly long day as the close protection for a senator's wife, but she had to get caught up in an armed robbery only to be rescued by a supposedly long dead soldier.

"Where do you think he went?" The police officer questioned, his pen poised.

"I don't know," Victoria shrugged. "He had a couple of days beard growth, a little tired. Pretty sure his clothes were new though."

"And what's the significance of that?"

"I don't know," Victoria shook her head. "Just an observation. Look – Detective Turner, I've had a long day. Is there anything else?"

"No, sorry to keep you ma'am. We've got your details, so if we need you for anything else we'll call."

"Great, thanks." Victoria nodded her head. "I'll get out of your hair then."

* * *

Victoria's hands fumbled with her keys before she finally found the lock. Swinging the heavy pine door to her apartment open she stepped into the dimly lit hallway. Toeing off her boots she left them scattered by the front door, next her jacket fell to the floor. Her gun and holster were quickly discarded on the sideboard.

Shuffling into the kitchen Victoria opened the fridge, a box of Thai food sat on the middle shelf. It was almost like the laughing Buddha that served as the restaurants logo was winking at her – tempting her to devour the contents of the carton. Smiling Victoria removed the foodstuff, without bothering to heat it up she pulled open one of the many drawers and withdrew a fork.

Her moment was short lived however as her phone began buzzing in her pocket. Resisting the urge to growl in frustration Victoria pulled out the piece of offending technology.

"Miller." Victoria snapped, not bothering to check who was on the other end of the line before she picked up.

"Ok, what happened to running a few errands?"

Victoria bit her lip, contrite. "Sorry Mikey, something came up."

"Something always comes up Vic."

"Did I miss anything?"

There was a pregnant pause before Mikey finally spoke, "Well my girlfriend came along, was kind of hoping I could introduce her to my sister…."

"Oh shit, Mikey, I totally forgot!"

"Yeah," Victoria's brother sighed on the phone. "Look it's not a big deal – she gets that you have a lot of commitments. Would have been nice is all."

"Mikey I will totally make this up to you!"

"Vic, don't make promises you cant keep."

"Jesus Michael, don't hold back or anything." Victoria muttered, her free hand gripping the Formica counter top.

"Sorry," Mikey breathed. "I just… Look, you still going to Mom's for dinner Sunday? I'm bringing Grace, it would have been better if she could have met you earlier – just so she isn't overwhelmed by the Miller clan or anything."

"We're not overwhelming Mike."

"You're kidding me right? Paige is totally going to give her the third degree.

Victoria sighed at the mention of their older sister, "Paige means well."

"Right and then Tom's going to hit on her."

"Tom will not hit on her. Tom may be many things, but he's still our brother. He wouldn't do that to you. Besides he knows I have a gun and you're my favourite baby brother."

"By like two minutes."

"Those two minutes count Mikey," Victoria laughed and some of the day's tension was released.

"You ok right? When you say something came up – it wasn't bad or anything was it?"

"Nah," Victoria shook her head, despite knowing full well that her brother couldn't see her. "Shit…"

"What?"

"I forgot the coffee filters."

"Go to Starbucks or something," Mikey laughed. "I'll see you soon sis."

"Yeah, sleep well Mike."

Hanging up the phone the blonde pushed off the counter top, taking the remnants of her food she padded into the living room before sinking into the sofa. Pulling her laptop towards her she powered it up, upon the arrival of her familiar desktop she opened up a search.

"_James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes" _

Quickly clicking on the image tab Victoria waited for the Internet to spit back whatever pictures it had, the first one was his service record photo. Squinting her eyes Victoria tried to envisage him without the hat, granting him long hair and a beard. It was a seamless transition but there was something missing. The more candid pictures of Barnes with the Howling Commandos brought it even further into relief. Despite the lack of colour in the pictures Victoria could see the life that was exuded from Barnes. The war had failed to taint him completely; there was something about his eyes that suggested he wasn't done fighting yet.

The man she had run into in the back alley was not the man from the photos. For a brief moment the ghost of a long distant memory was with her, Bucky Barnes was there, however broken and tarnished. But then he was gone.

Victoria grit her teeth, the resemblance was uncanny but he couldn't have been Bucky Barnes. It wasn't possible. _And you thought aliens weren't real. _A voice sneered in her head. Clearly the realms of possibility had been stretched for the world of late. But just how did a veteran of WWII suddenly end up in D.C. nearly 70 years later?

It was widely understood that Captain American had been frozen, the super soldier serum granting him the ability to survive the process. But Barnes? As far as she could tell he had been ordinary soldier, admittedly a sharp shooter but there was nothing else to suggest he was harbouring extraordinary abilities.

All accounts stated that he had fallen to his death.

Barnes was born and raised in Brooklyn. He spent the majority of his childhood in an orphanage. After aging out he worked various menial jobs. He quickly enlisted when the US joined the war. He was an NCO in the 107th, was granted the Distinguished Service Cross posthumously.

Victoria blinked; the facts weren't exactly giving much away. And it wasn't like she could just ask Captain America, right? Snapping the lid of her laptop shut she pushed it away from her. Grabbing the remote she switched on the TV, 24-hour rolling news coverage soon began to wash over her.

"Only known as the Winter Soldier."

Victoria's eyes snapped open at the news anchor's latest statement. A month on and the various news agencies had not come further in unmasking the man that had ended up in a very public brawl with Captain America.

Grabbing her laptop once more Victoria ran another search and began sifting through the reams of data. Unlike Barnes, there was far more speculation about the Winter Solider. The consensus being that he was a Soviet spy, a trained killer who had been active since the 1950s, only tailing off towards the end of the Cold War. He then went dark. Kills attributed to his name fell off. The fact that his career spanned such a long time and the assassin in question was always a young male in peak physical condition, seemed to suggest that Winter Soldier codename did not belong solely to one person.

That or he had a great skin care regime. Victoria stiffened, who else did she know who had the uncanny ability to put a pause on those wrinkles? Shaking her head Victoria ran a hand through already messy hair. She would have noticed a metal arm - wouldn't she? Doing her best to shake the thoughts from her overwrought brain Victoria slid off the sofa, switching off the TV on her way to the bedroom.

Strangely sleep came easy to her that night.

* * *

James stared at his hands. His right was skin and bone, callouses spread across his palm suggesting years of use, the scars across his skin speaking of unknown stories. Furling his left hand into a fist he could barely look at the silver appendage. The metal was as smooth as ever; any of the markings had always been buffed and polished out. Aside from the very obvious defining feature of a metal arm, the Winter Solider had not been allowed to keep anything else that might mark his character. Every scrape, every damaged component had been fixed and replaced; he wasn't allowed to keep any reminders of his mission. Not if they could help it. He was a blank slate, their plaything to be molded as they saw fit.

James shrugged off his shirt, the vest top underneath leaving more of his bionic arm exposed. Looking down over his shoulder he frowned, his right hand reaching out to rub the red star that was painted across his bicep. Or rather where his bicep would have been. The insignia was like a brand, the one part of his identity they had not wanted him to lose. Mother Russia.

James grit his teeth. He couldn't remember losing the arm, he'd had the metal one for as long as he could recall. But the man in the uniform, the man who had danced with the girls and offered them meaningless platitudes in exchange for a night together…. He'd been whole – two functioning flesh and blood arms. Not the monstrosity welded to his chest.

The Winter Solider bit back a scream, instead venting his rage on the rickety coffee table the run down motel had deemed fit to furnish his room with. He couldn't push the feelings of self-disgust down anymore. Not without their programming.

He didn't know when he'd stopped serving the Soviets and when HYDRA had started pulling the strings. It didn't matter – not really. Not with the conditioning. They just pointed him in the direction of the enemy and watched the carnage unfold.

He was their toy soldier – loyal to the last. Except memories of Coney Island, hot dogs and a kid named Steve kept scratching at the back of his mind. The wall they had put up in his head was dangerously close to breaking; memories were beginning to seep through the cracks.

James' left hand grappled with a small cardboard packet on the bed, hitting the pack of cigarettes against the flat of his hand he pulled out a cigarette with his mouth. Quickly lighting up he inhaled deeply, the end of the cigarette burning amber in the dark room.

The smoke curled upwards, and something settled in James' chest. It was if an itch that had been driving him to distraction had suddenly been scratched. He'd been jonesing for a cigarette since he'd met the girl. Inhaling once more James tried to relax; he hadn't had a cigarette since 1945 he was going to be a little tightly wound.

The sudden flash of a memory hit him like a punch to the gut.

_He was down to his last box of Lucky Strikes; he'd traded at least three packs, a set of D-rations and a goddamn Luger with some GI for a set of boots. The cigarette was going someway to warm him up as he veritably hugged his mug of what could loosely be deemed stew. _

"_Those boots worth it Sarge?" _

"_Riggins, I'm not even thinking about that goddamned chocolate bar." _

"_Well, I'm gonna be honest Sergeant Barnes, I kinda am. You would have shared it right?"_

_Bucky laughed, "Like Hell I would've." _

Quickly stubbing out the cigarette against his left hand James heaved himself to his feet. Pulling off his vest and reaching for a long sleeved Henley followed by gloves and a green hoodie James thrust his hands into his pockets. Quickly exiting the hotel room James pulled up his hood, taking the stairs down he managed to avoid the receptionist at the frond desk. Stepping out onto the street James headed towards his destination with purpose, blending seamlessly with the crowds.

* * *

The following morning Victoria was regretting not having made the trip out to buy coffee filters, the walk to her local coffee shop whilst ignoring her pounding headache had not been fun. But when she emerged back onto the quiet residential street, steaming flat white in hand her first sip already taken care of, she was beginning to feel more like a human being. Sitting down on a nearby bench Victoria took another sip of her coffee and tried to enjoy the last few moment of serenity before she was due to start her working day.

"Did you tell them anything?"

To her credit Victoria did not spit out a mouthful of coffee, instead her eyes widened as she glanced to her left. James Barnes was sitting there; cool as you please, totally ignoring the fact that like a total _stalker_ he'd managed to track down where she lived.

"I told them enough of what they wanted to hear." Victoria shrugged, trying to remain nonchalant.

"My name?" James questioned, only a slight tremor of concern in his voice.

Victoria shook her head, before sending a sly look towards the man. "Do you even know your name?"

His intense blue eyes narrowed menacingly; clearly his minor break down was not a conversation they were to be having.

"How'd you find me anyway?" Victoria questioned, taking another sip of her drink.

"You told me your name and what you did. Do you know how much information you leave on the Internet?" James replied smoothly, his eyes firmly on the building across the street.

"Look my stalking skills only extend to looking up my ex boyfriend on Facebook. This. This is weird. I mean what kind of skill set are you boasting?" Victoria shot back, her brown eyes swimming with emotion, the most predominate of which was fear.

"I'm Batman, remember doll?" James shot back, and Victoria could have sworn there was something halfway teasing about his tone. The reemergence of the Brooklyn twang was noted.

"Not good enough. So you better start talking Barnes, because you're supposed dead."

* * *

**A/N: **First off thanks to those who reviewed - especially those who I couldn't PM back.

Just one thing really - I think the film seems to suggest that HYDRA are the only people behind Bucky's current predicament, I was however thrown by the presence of the Red Star on his arm, which makes sense in the comic book world where the Soviets were behind his programming. I've tried to somehow combine both elements.

I promise Steve will appear soon!

Anyway, please let me know what you think and leave a review :)


	3. Chapter 3

"I know. I was there. I saw the great void in your soul, and you saw mine."

― Sebastian Faulks, _Birdsong_

* * *

The two of them were still sat on the bench as Victoria took intermittent sips from her rapidly cooling coffee. The small task gave her enough of something to do, preventing her from suddenly launching into a game of twenty questions. The blonde was refraining from speaking, hoping that Barnes would take it upon himself to fill the silence. She didn't know what was wrong with the guy, but she figured talking would help.

"What makes you think I should be dead?" James finally replied, his gaze never wavering from the brownstone across the street

"You were at The Smithsonian weren't you? You read all that stuff…"

James gave a hollow laugh, "My whole life story neatly expressed in a couple of paragraphs. Except I don't remember any of it …" Barnes's accent kept dipping in and out, every time this were to happen a flash of anger passed across his face. His frustration was evident but Victoria couldn't pinpoint why.

"Nothing?" Victoria whispered.

"Some fragments." James sighed, his brow furrowing and finally his eyes dropped. "Kind of hard to reconcile having a whole other identity when every memory I have has been tampered with."

"Do you want to remember?" Victoria suddenly questioned, her eyes darting towards the man sitting next to her. There was a tension across his shoulders, his hands we're clenched inside his pockets, he was clearly on edge and Victoria was worried he would bolt.

"Yes," James replied, only just managing to keep the hesitancy out of his voice. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Those moves you pulled back in the convenience store – ordinary people don't just do that. You've had training and God knows where you got it. It wont be easy and I doubt it's going to be pleasant…"

"It doesn't matter," James replied simply. "You wouldn't understand – identity crisis really doesn't begin to cover it."

"Ok." Victoria nodded. "Do you have any money?"

"Some, why?"

"Look, I know I literally ran into you yesterday. And then you, after pulling an Edward Cullen level of stalker move, managed to find me. Which probably should be setting off alarm bells in my head. But I want to help you. In the interest of disclosure and so we're both going into this eyes open - it's been said I lack a self preservation instinct." Victoria sighed, bottling her natural urge to overthink as she attempted to dismiss her concerns; her brain could lecture her later. Reaching into her purse she pulled out several green bills. "There's a barbers down the street, go and get a haircut and shave. The whole Smells Like Teen Spirit look totally isn't doing it for you. My apartment's 228 Bishops Gate. First floor. If you just want take my money and then steal all my shit. Fine. But please make it look like a robbery."

James took the money offered to him, his eyes boring holes into Victoria's. "Why are you doing this?"

"I don't know." Victoria replied honestly. "You look like you could use the help to be honest. And again – in the interest of disclosure – I wont hesitate in putting a bullet in your head if my family gets hurt. Ok?" Victoria quickly glanced at her watch. "I've got to go to work, I won't be back too late. Just don't burn the place down or anything. Here's my cell if you need anything. "

Pressing her keys and a small card into James' hand she promptly stood up, brushing off some imaginary lint from her trousers.

"I'll see you later."

"Later," James nodded.

Several cars had passed by before James decided to get to his feet, hoping it would spur him to make a decision. Victoria's apartment building was only a couple of blocks over; he could walk there in less than ten minutes. But the distance to her apartment was not the main issue; he'd run for miles with a full pack in Basic…. James shook his head; the memory had presented itself unbidden, a sharp reminder that he wasn't whole. Scattered remnants of his past were just out of his grasp, only to manifest at the most inopportune of moments. More often than not leaving him confused, disoriented, vulnerable. He had one too many voices clamoring to be heard in his head. He needed focus. He needed them to stop.

His old self, or rather the Winter Solider, was adamant he should take the money and go. She was a liability at best; she was the enemy at worst. Years of training – or was it conditioning – was screaming at him to get out and tie up loose ends. The gruesome reality of which involved gifting Victoria with a Columbian necktie. Strangely his stomach turned at the thought.

He'd been making mistakes. Saving Steve, Captain America, had been the first of many. He wasn't supposed to succumb to something as trivial as sentiment. He wasn't allowed the luxury of feelings. He was compromised. The mission was in jeopardy.

Except what was the mission? HYDRA was gone…. There was no one left to give him orders. The thought sent him reeling as he tumbled back down onto the bench. His whole life had been defined by what his superiors had told him to do and believe. He had been issued directives and he had followed those commands to the letter. But he had been cut adrift; he was a free agent in a world he barely recognized. A world that was a lot less black and white than he remembered.

He should have left Victoria in the store, she'd told him to go. He wouldn't have had to feel guilty – except when did something like guilt even bother him? His hands were stained with the blood of countless nameless faces and he hadn't so much as batted an eyelid. Besides, who was he kidding? He wasn't some knight in shining armor. He didn't go round rescuing women, his role in life wasn't to slay the dragon – he_ was _the dragon.

James shuddered. A loosely bound book was heavy in his hands. The pictures the words painted of knights-errant and fair maidens enchanted him, ensnared his imagination. Every night, just after lights out, he would pull the heavy tome from under his bed. He could smell the brittle, dusty pages. Feel the browned paper beneath his fingers as he leafed through the volume. Simple black and white illustrations prompted him to envisage something far more fantastical, his daydreams enriched by colour and a startling amount of self invented detail. But without fail, the dragon at the end book was always defeated. The knight victorious, the maiden saved and his forever.

Clenching his right hand into a fist, Barnes felt his fingernails pressing into his palm, the pain going someway to remind him of where he was. Pulling him back into the present. Pushing himself to his feet James took a few tentative steps forward.

* * *

It was with almost reverence that Steve packed away his turntable; maybe it was because growing up he never had anything close to this. All the kids at the orphanage would gather round the one wireless without fail every evening, it was until he'd aged out, scrimping and saving with Bucky so they could eventually get a battered, second hand gramophone. But even then, it hadn't been his.

Staring at the now outmoded technology Steve felt something tighten in his chest. There was a reason he'd spent so long preparing for his move from D.C. to Manhattan. Now he was no longer under SHIELD's payroll keeping the apartment both seemed unnecessary and more pressingly impossible.

Steve suppressed a sigh, saving the world didn't exactly pay the bills. Natasha had reminded him that several conglomerates were all clamoring to sign him. Steve had quickly nixed the idea; he was not about to get an endorsement deal. Barton had suggested they could tastefully incorporate '_Just Do It.' _with the pattern on his shield. Steve had rolled his eyes.

Both Barton and Natasha had been skirting around the issue of moving, the super spies had both resisted the urge to up the timetable because Steve wasn't staying for the Lincoln Memorial. He was chasing a ghost. Hoping against hope that he would somehow find Barnes again. Against all the odds Bucky was alive, broken but alive. Every fiber of Steve's being wanted to stay, to go back onto the streets and keep looking. Except Natasha kept reminding him Bucky now had the skills to disappear. The ex KGB officer insisted that with Stark's resources they would undoubtedly have better luck finding the long thought dead soldier.

The Captain had seen her logic, even agreeing that staying with Stark would be bearable considering the guy had a whole God damned tower. But it didn't matter; the thought of Bucky lost, alone, and fighting demons was almost too much for Steve to bear. He knew from his own experience readjusting, despite the support network Fury had put into place, that culture shock with a healthy dose of PTSD didn't even come close to describing what Bucky must be going through.

James Buchanan Barnes had always been there for Steve, and now the roles were reversed, when Captain America had a wealth of resources to draw upon to aid his fallen friend, he had no way of finding him. No way of helping. A wave of inadequacy hit him, much like before the serum, when he had wanted to do so much but was prevented from doing so because of factors outside of his control – namely his weak, sickly frame. But now, when there was nothing for him to hit and no leads for him to follow, he was increasingly feeling helpless. What was the use of a solider without a war to fight? Without an enemy to kill?

Shutting the brown box and sealing it closed with a strip of parcel tape Steve sighed. This was the last of it, the last of his few belongings. His life had been easily packed away, his new home in Avengers Tower waiting for him. Despite the fact that he would continue to look for his friend, it felt like he was closing the door on the search. The heavy feeling of guilt sunk further in his stomach.

Hefting the box easily into his arms Steve headed towards the door and the exit to street level. The SUV Stark Industries had kindly lent him was parked on the curb; the drive north was not something he was looking forward to. Sparing a glance towards the apartment door that once housed Agent 13 Steve grit his teeth. He knew he had to leave D.C. but there was something tethering him down, and that something was Bucky.

* * *

James pushed the door to Victoria's apartment open, every nerve in his body crackling with an unused energy, his muscles primed to respond. It didn't matter how far he was from the Red Room, he couldn't shake the reflex to check the exits, ensure that the room was clear. Stepping into the hallway he spared a glance to his right, the kitchen and living room were both uninhabited. Heading forwards he pushed open a door to his left, swinging open on its hinges it revealed an empty bathroom, the window still ajar from Victoria's morning shower.

Turning his attention to the room at the far end of the hallway James continued forward, the feel of the grain beneath his fingers was short lived as the door opened. Victoria's bedroom was full of light; the curtains pushed wide open revealing a view of the park across the way. Clothes were strewn across her messily made bed; pictures littered the walls and a vast array of beauty products jostled for space on her dresser. Picking up a particularly ornate bottle of perfume James pulled off the cap, the scent of jasmine and mint hit his nose. He was forcibly taken back to their time in the alleyway, her cool hands pressed against his arms, her eyes wide with misplaced concern.

Placing the bottle as he found it James promptly left the room – he wasn't about to start going through her underwear drawer. He had to keep reminding himself that she wasn't a job; she wasn't some mark to be eliminated. She was just a woman who had decided to let him into her life, a woman who should know better.

Wandering back into the living room James ran a hand across the back of his neck, his hair no longer skimming his shoulders. The barber, or rather hairdresser, had jumped a foot when he saw James' unkempt hair. The man – Trent – had ostensibly given Barnes a short back and sides, except there was a ridiculous amount of hair on the top, styled with something the man had called clay.

It was only when the hairdresser reclined the chair and pulled out the razor that James was back on familiar ground, apparently traditional wet shaves were back in. Whatever that meant. When Trent had jacked the chair back up, and presented James with an entirely new face the soldier's first reaction was to punch something. Preferably Trent. The man from the exhibition at the Smithsonian was staring back at him.

Ignoring the mirror that stood over the non-functioning fireplace in Victoria's living room James zoned in on her bookshelf, several titles littered the functional piece of furniture. A lot of them he recognized, presumably they were still classics in the 21st century. Some looked distinctly trashy, pulling out a book with an exceptionally well-worn spine Barnes quickly flipped through the pages. The name Edward Cullen caught his eye. Stuffing the book under his arm James continued his exploration of her apartment.

There were no records or CDs on display but he noticed speakers dotted about the room. For a second he had forgotten they lived in a digital age, and cracking into her laptop to check her music collection seemed far more intrusive than perusing the books she had on show.

James knew that he'd broken into government databases, viewed private medical records all in the name of an assignment, the moral and ethical implications never once bothering him. But now? Now a twisting sensation had taken up permanent residency in his gut.

The guilt was fast becoming a permanent fixture and undoubtedly it would only grow worse. As with every memory he gained of his life in Brooklyn, when he was broke but whole, the number of emotions and fears began to seep in tenfold. His conscious was newly awakened but there was too much blood. The weight of his actions were simultaneously crashing down on his shoulders and it was all he could do not to break down in a wretched mess of shattered nerves.

Lurching away from the bookshelf Bucky slumped on the sofa, the book falling by his side. He needed distracting, the need to focus on something else was all too great. Snatching up the discarded book he quickly leafed to the first page.

* * *

It must have been hours later, he'd stop bothering to check the time half way through the second book, but the sun had begun to set, necessitating him to turn on the floor lamp. A sharp buzz issued from the intercom by the front door had him sitting upright and alert. Sliding off the sofa he headed towards the door, locating the buzzer he leant forwards.

"Hello?"

"James!" Victoria's voice crackled. "Let me in would you."

"Right." James nodded, before pressing the button that allowed her access to the building. Opening the front door he stood with his back to the jamb as he surveyed the stairs, waiting for the bob of blonde hair.

"I hope you like pizza," Victoria said as she breezed past the man, keenly aware he was still checking the hallway for danger.

"I don't really know if I have a preference for anything…" James muttered as he shut the door behind them.

"Right," Victoria stuttered before bulldozing through her awkwardness. "We'll just have to try every cuisine the world has to offer, you might end up really liking Eritrean food."

"I'm not sure the old me, World War Two me, would have ever really had the chance to eat Eritrean food…"

"No," Victoria conceded, shouting out from the kitchen. "But it could be new new you's thing."

Rematerializing in the living room Victoria handed him a plate, before inviting him to sit down.

"Just for the record - I won't watch you while you sleep." James mumbled after taking his first bite, the greasy food was heaven.

"What?"

"Oh I found this when you were out…" James held up a familiar black book. "I was a little bored."

"So you read Twilight?"

"Beats trying to figure out the mess in my head…. So this what dames go for nowadays? Shiny Volvos and a complex?"

"Yeah, that or Christian Grey… But as they're both technically the same character then it's just more of the same. Tall, dark, and brooding is the new thing I guess."

"Christian Grey, he like what, Carry Grant or somethin'?"

Victoria snorted, before shaking her head. "I'm guessing you missed the whole Mommy Porn thing."

Barnes raised an eyebrow, "Mommy Porn?"

"It's a form of erotic fiction, focuses on the female fantasy…"

"And you read this?" James questioned, incredulous.

"Well…."

James whistled, "You're some broad, you know that?"

Victoria rolled her eyes, "Trust me, it's pretty tame." Reaching out for another slice of pizza she sent a sidelong look towards James.

"What?" The man questioned, almost laconically as his gaze slid towards hers.

Victoria bit her tongue before forcing the words to come out, "You seem… better."

"I…." James faltered. "There are moments when stuff doesn't feel so cluttered in my head."

"Good," Victoria smiled. "We'll just have to make sure those moments last longer."

"How?" James questioned, the sincerity in his voice had Victoria choking back a sob.

"I don't know, but we'll find something. " Victoria replied honestly. Sucking in her breath as if to say something else the blonde stopped herself.

"Say it…" James growled, his eyes darkening.

The woman laughed, "I like your hair."

* * *

**A/N: **I couldn't resist - I had to put a bit of Steve in, I wasn't planning on using his character until James was ready to meet him. Anyway!

Thanks to all of you that have followed/favourited. As always reviews and your thoughts are welcome, nay, desired.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

"_But remember the princess who lived on the hill_

_Who loved you even though she knew you was wrong_

_And right now she just might come shining through"_ – Coney Island Baby, Lou Reed

* * *

The soldier's eyes snapped open; his cold assessing gaze surveyed the room. He was still in the blonde's apartment, the girl having left him alone for her own bed. Withdrawing the knife from the holster at the small of his back the soldier couldn't help but sneer. In her naivety she had assumed he was going about unarmed. Shrugging off the blanket Victoria had left for him the soldier stood up. Bare feet hit the wooden floorboards as he pushed off from the couch. Shifting the blade into his right hand the solider headed towards the hallway.

Victoria's door was slightly ajar; he could just make out her shape under the bed covers. A small groan drifted towards him as Victoria shifted in the bed, her arm swinging out from under the duvet. Inching forward the solider steeled himself, planting his weight on his right foot he winced. There was a distinctive creek as the floorboard dipped under his weight.

Biting back a curse the solider looked towards Victoria's room. The woman was still asleep, her head dipped low into her chest as she moved further into the warmth the blankets provided.

"Goddammit…" the man hissed as he attempted to get his breathing under control, beads of sweat dripping down his temples, pooling at the base of his neck.

Dropping his gaze the solider noticed the whites of his knuckles, his right arm shaking as he maintained the tight grip on the blade. Eventually his digits began to loosen, a few seconds later and his grip relaxed entirely, the weapon falling to the ground. Slumping to the floor the man's back rested against the cool plaster of the wall, his head thumping backwards.

He did not kill innocent women in their beds. He wasn't that man anymore. He wasn't a _murderer. _

The urge to clean up after his mistake had been overwhelming; he was falling back on the years of training that had been forced into his head. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd been sent in to ensure there were no witnesses left, no one with a scrap of information that could compromise the undertaking could remain.

It was glaringly obvious that Victoria knew too much- an intelligence leak waiting to happen.

A pretty face and a few small acts of kindness had him spilling his guts like some amateur. She was nothing to him. She wasn't a friend or family, not that he had any of those left. She was just a girl. A stranger. Victoria had no right to his history or his story, and yet he found himself sharing his fears with her.

He was honest enough to admit that he was scared, the idea that years of training and conditioning could have him flip to stone cold killer in a matter of seconds was not a comforting thought. He was a swirling mass of unchecked emotions, an exposed wound of festering doubts and corrupted memories.

He was cracked; his mind shattered and reformed so many times that all he was left with were tarnished pieces, some missing altogether. His shell like being inhabited by the ghosts of several men, there was nothing whole about him. He was merely an amalgamation of lost and stolen memories – Frankenstein's monster.

And there she was, like Heaven had chosen to deliver him from his sins by a flesh and blood angel. Victoria had crashed into him, cool hands and forgiving eyes dragging him from Perdition. His weakness had left him exposed, his vulnerability allowing her to carve a niche for herself in his chest. After years in the cold he clung to the warmth that she offered. The calm acceptance she provided him made it all too easy to forget, all too easy to open up to her.

James' nails clawed at the floorboards as he grit his teeth; he was not about to add religious psychosis to his long list of issues. Victoria was just a girl. It didn't matter if she'd offered to help him, there was too much wrong with him. He'd just tried to murder her in her bed for Christ's sake; no amount of apologizing could change what he'd tried to do. What he could do.

Staggering to his feet James stumbled back towards the living room, his blue eyes searching out the neat pile of clothes he had left on the leather armchair. Reaching for the grey tee shirt he was soon fully clothed, the door to Victoria's apartment closing firmly behind him.

The smell of coffee hit Victoria's nose first, whoever had invented the coffee machine that included a timer deserved a medal. Rolling onto her side a sheet of hair fell into her eyes, hastily pushing the locks out of her vision Victoria soon had her blonde mane tied up. Dropping from her bed to the floor she reached for her Georgetown hoodie, a hand me down from an ex boyfriend she didn't have the heart to return. Padding softly towards the bathroom she quickly turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on her face in an effort to wake up. Glancing up at the mirror her skin had taken on almost translucent quality in the cold, the remnants of yesterday's makeup still smudging the corner of eyes. Hastily rubbing her eyelids Victoria left the bathroom, her stomach growling in the anticipation of breakfast.

Stepping into the living room she sighed, even with the blinds drawn, the small amount of sunlight that managed to creep through the slats was enough to illuminate the room

The couch was noticeably empty, the apartment unbearably still.

* * *

**Two weeks later **

The steady rhythm of Steve Roger's bare knuckles slamming into the punching bags greeted Pepper's ears as she wandered down the metal staircase to the first of two gyms that were housed in Stark Tower. Despite the worlds media referring to the colossal building as Avengers Tower, Tony being the stubborn ass he was, never failed to remind her he was the one to build it whenever his assistant cum girlfriend cum CEO was close to dropping the A bomb.

Sighing to herself Pepper pushed open the glass door, her eyes flitting towards the figure that took up the centre of the room.

"Steve," the red head called out. "Do you have a minute?"

The heavy thwacking noise of flesh hitting leather suddenly stopped, Steve's broad shoulders stilled as he turned to face the intruder. His breathing rapidly slowing as he heart beat fell to its resting rate.

"Virginia, what can I do for you?" Steve replied, a half smile flitting across his openly handsome features.

"There's a jar upstairs – can't get into it. And you know what Tony's like, weak wrists…." Pepper half choked back a laugh before biting her lip.

"A jar?" Steve questioned as he reached for a towel, he had the good graces to keep a straight face.

"Yeah," Pepper breathed, her eyes bright as she nodded her head with an altogether startling amount of earnestness.

"Lead the way Ms Potts," Steve said. The super soldier's right hand sweeping outwards in a half circle before coming to an abrupt halt when the limb was at right angles to his body. The gesture for her to take the stairs first was duly noted and Pepper suppressed a smile as she walked past the Captain. There was something utterly arresting about Steve Rogers, and it had nothing to do with his ass.

Leading Steve towards the shared kitchen Pepper kept up a running commentary on what was currently happening with Stark Industries, Steve was as always polite, nodding where he should and asking the appropriate questions.

"Maria Hill's settling in nicely," Pepper offered the small nugget of information hoping that it would bring out more than a stock response from Steve.

"That's great!" Steve replied, the smile just about reaching his eyes.

Doing her best to ignore Steve's lack luster response Pepper pushed open the door to the kitchen, revealing Bruce, Tony, and an obscenely large cake.

"So, trust you to be born July 4th and figuring as we have that massive shindig organized later we figured we could celebrate before hand." Tony smiled as he held out a knife. "Cake?"

Rushing forward Pepper took the blade from Tony's outstretched hand, carefully setting it down on the counter before Tony could cause any damage.

"We know it's just the four of us…" Bruce began.

"Yeah, Thor's not going to be jumping out of the cake or anything." Tony interjected, his finger skimming off some of the icing before promptly transferring the sweet foodstuff to his mouth.

"Virginia…" Steve began.

"How many times Cap, it's Pepper," Tony sighed dramatically. Iron Man's finger flitting dangerously close to the icing once more, only to be intercepted by Pepper as she trapped the billionaire's hand in her own.

"I happen to like that he calls me Virginia," the red head replied primly. "Anyway, Happy Birthday Steve!"

"Happy Birthday!" The other two men echoed as Pepper pulled the blond towards the counter and the only marginally defaced cake.

"Thank you… All of you – really."

"Don't worry about it Steve," Pepper smiled. "It was our pleasure."

"We'll just count this as a cheat day." Tony grinned as he handed over a sizable chunk of cake.

Bruce sighed, "For some reason I don't think Steve has to worry about carbohydrates…"

* * *

Victoria attempted to pick discretely at her bra, somehow the underwiring had come loose, the stiff metal ripping through fabric and poking into her side. Shifting awkwardly so her left side was facing into the table and going someway to shield her right, Victoria snuck a hand under her turquoise sundress. With a surprising amount of dexterity she managed to snare the rogue piece of wiring between two fingers before pulling the whole thing out. Quickly disposing the evidence in her bag the blonde glanced down towards her chest. One was definitely sagging more….

"Victoria, we can't say how great it is that you managed to come along this weekend."

Victoria's head snapped up, a pink hue creeping into her cheeks. Coughing nervously she attempted a wide smile but she was convinced it came out as more of a grimace.

"Well Mike's crazy about Grace, Mrs. Kim." Victoria smiled haplessly, looking towards her brother for help. She wasn't the one that was supposed to be getting the third degree. Mike was the guy banging the Kims' daughter, not her.

"Gracie said the two of you hit it right off!" Mrs. Kim smiled, nodding her head encouragingly.

"Yes, of course. I'm crazy about her too. We all are!" Victoria squeaked; her eyes flicking from Mrs. Kim to Mr. Kim, the latter having remained markedly silent, and back.

Mikey rolled his eyes, "You'll have to excuse my sister. She can get a little socially awkward."

"Oh I'm sorry dear," Mrs. Kim gushed, her hand reaching out to take Victoria's in her own. "That must be so hard for you."

Victoria began to nod her head slowly, nonplussed.

Grace snorted, "He was _joking _Mom."

Mrs. Kim promptly dropped Victoria's hand, an awkward laugh on her breath.

"Well, like I was saying. Mike's crazy about Grace. And considering he's my twin brother, I want to get to know the people in his life." Victoria quickly smoothed over whilst her foot drove into Mike's shin under the table. Her brother suppressed a groan just as the blonde sent a saccharine smile towards him.

"Is this your first time in New York City Ms. Miller?" Mr. Kim finally spoke, his eyes drifting towards the blonde.

"Please, call me Victoria. And no, I've been out here a couple of times. Mainly work related so I've never really had a chance to check out the sites."

At this Mrs. Kim beamed. "After we finish eating we were going to head over to the park to see the fireworks. There's such a lovely view of Manhattan."

"Great," Victoria grinned.

Stuffing another fork full of food into her mouth Victoria let Mike take over the conversation. Sitting back the police officer enjoyed the fierce summer sun beating down on her as they sat around a rickety plastic table in the Kim's backyard, the smell of cooking meat drifting over from the barbecue.

Strangely it had been Grace who'd insisted Victoria join them in Brooklyn for the holiday. The blonde had been more than willing to oblige, getting out of D.C. had never seemed more desirable. It had been a couple of weeks since her run in with James Barnes and the more rational part of her brain had succeeded in bullying the rest of her into believing they had gotten away lucky. Escaped a situation that would have undoubtedly turned messy and fast. You did not adopt strangers who were clearly on the brink of a psychotic break.

But as always, there was a part of her that insisted on finding the smallest niggling doubt. Within seconds Victoria had spun it out into something that began to resemble an unhealthy obsession. She would turn the facts over in her head and pick apart her actions. And no matter what she did she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd somehow failed. There was a giant question mark hanging over James Barnes and Victoria would be lying if she didn't want to find the answers.

* * *

Obnoxiously loud music was pumping through the speakers, the jazz band from earlier that evening had long given way to the big named DJ Pepper had managed to secure. The bass beat reverberated through the room as some braver souls, not doubt spurred on by the vast amounts of alcohol they had consumed, took to the dance floor. Teardrop diamonds and Rolex watches glinting under the spotlights as limbs flailed wildly, bodies jerking to the pounding rhythm. As with any other party thrown by the billionaire, champagne was flowing freely and Tony Stark's guests mingled with each other, the social lubricant of alcohol going a long way to keep the conversation going.

Steve tugged awkwardly at his collar, trying to throw the feeling of claustrophobia. Dinner suits had never been his thing, even back in the War when a man was always seen in a hat. Ducking behind a strategically placed fake tree Steve downed a glass of champagne; Bruce had made his excuses hours earlier, disappearing into the upper levels of the tower. Steve shot a glance over his shoulder; the woman he'd been avoiding for the majority of the evening seemed to have finally got the hint.

Darting out from his corner of seclusion Steve deposited his empty glass on a tray ferried about by one of the many waiters. Giving the server a wide smile Steve made tracks, heading towards the service elevator. And thoughts of escaping Manhattan and returning to his familiar stomping grounds soon became reality.

* * *

James didn't know why he was here. Well that wasn't entirely true, it was painfully obvious why he had chosen to come to Brooklyn. This particular rooftop however, there was something vaguely familiar about the view but aside from that he had no idea why he had been drawn here. Presumably a part of his subconscious was responsible for his arrival at the relatively worn down building. But for the life of him he couldn't remember.

Using the collection of bins as a starting point James jumped for the fire escape; practically sailing up the rungs before clambering onto the roof. Settling on the edge of the building, his legs daggling into nothingness James tried to relax.

No sooner had he left Victoria behind in her apartment Barnes had headed for New York. A part of him assuming that confronting his demons head on would force him to remember.

But instead he was consumed by such a palpable sense of loss, leaving him longing for the white heat that came with his modified memories. It had been easier then. Not knowing. But now there was only a tangled mess.

With each turn and every step he took another landmark was revealed, evoking such a visceral reaction James was prone to keeling over in shock. Pulled away from the present and dragged into the past, chunks missing and with no context to help him understand James was left reeling. Each memory gained was like a squeeze to the heart, emotions pounded through his veins as he tried to make sense of the images that flashed before him. So real he was half convinced he could touch their faces, feel the smog in his lungs as he breathed in the polluted air.

His metal hand gripped a loose brick and with a brief squeeze he was left holding a handful of orange dust. Watching the powder drift away on the breeze James let loose a shuddering breath.

"Bucky?"

For a moment James didn't move, assuming that he had fallen into another memory. The usual phantom come to haunt him.

"Bucky?"

The voice sounded again. But there was a wholeness to the voice, something solid, grounded. Glancing over his right shoulder James stiffened.

_Steve_.

In a matter of seconds Barnes was moving. Taking a running leap he launched himself off the side of the building. Sailing through the air his arms outstretched James came to an abrupt halt, his hands grabbing onto the fire escape of the adjacent building. Grunting in pain the fire escape forcibly lowered, his body jerking against his locked arms. Dangling a foot or so above the ground James dropped to the street.

The imperative to run was blasting through his brain.

Stepping out of the convenience store just round the block from the Kims Victoria let loose a sigh. She'd snuck out for cigarettes ten minutes ago and she was now swiftly unraveling a packet of Marlborough's. The smell of tobacco hit her nose and a small shiver ran across her spine in anticipation.

Fiddling with the lighter she finally got a flame to erupt to life, quickly lighting up she took a long drag as her eyes fluttered shut, the days sun still trapped in the concrete was just enough to keep her warm. As she slowly exhaled Victoria's eyes opened lazily, she wasn't alone.

"Do you need a light?" Victoria mumbled around her cigarette, her eyes still failing to focus completely on the stranger. Still lost in her guilty act. "Hey, do you…"

Victoria's eyes widened, her whole body jumping to attention as she finally saw.

"Bucky!"

Both James and Victoria's heads snapped round at the new voice.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry the ending was a little choppy... But I shall say, big things are to happen soon!

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again for the reviews and follows. As always - please let me know your thoughts, feedback in the form of a review is always appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

"I killed the president of Paraguay with a fork. How have you been?"

_- Grosse Pointe Blank_

* * *

All that stood between them was silence. Waves of emotions undulating back and forth as they each attempted to gain their bearings. Unspoken words and unchecked glances the only form of communication they had. None of them trusted themselves to speak or move. Locked in a deadly game of brinkmanship the three stood their ground. One false step and the whole thing would be lost, sending them crashing apart.

Steve's chest was rising and falling in a steady rhythm, doing its best not to betray the erratic beat of his heart as he stood staring at his best friend. The girl only just registered in his peripheral vision but from the way Bucky kept glancing at her Steve's interest in her was increased ten fold. Filing the piece of information away Steve attempted to compartmentalize.

The barely healed emotional wounds that he could never seem to shake were being torn open once more. He had spent hours imagining what he would do if he saw Bucky again, what he would say. But the dress rehearsal had done nothing to prepare him for the cold harsh reality of meeting Bucky once more. He was lost. His head was a mess; Peggy and Bucky had been his lodestones in the past, the only two that could ground him, keep him whole and focused. But now the two were lost to themselves and far out of Steve's grasp. He had been cut loose, adrift at sea with no hope of landfall.

Emotions crushed down on his chest, an intolerable amount of pain coursed through his veins as he was confronted with the broken man his friend had become. His best friend had no recollection of who he was. The universe in its unfailing wisdom had decided to play the biggest joke of all on him. It was cruel and unusual punishment. But perhaps it was deserved?

Cigarette smoke continued to plume in the night air, grey tendrils crawling their way upward, seeking a release from their close quarters. Victoria's full lips were slightly parted as she absorbed the two figures in front of her. The cigarette continued to burn between her fingers as the blonde attempted to kick her brain into gear.

Every cell in her body was screaming at her to run. She was intruding on a moment she had no claim to see. The undeniable history between the two men was clear to understand, the pain that was etched across Steve Roger's face a stark reminder of what was at stake.

With a shuddering breath Victoria tried to inch backwards, to make herself small and to hopefully disappear all together. She didn't belong here – not really. The cigarette still burned in her fingers, the smoke enveloping her hand as she flicked the ash free from the end of the stub.

Another step backwards and she would turn around, turn away from the mess that she had found herself in. This wasn't her responsibility to shoulder; this wasn't any of her concern. As if realizing her intention James' gaze honed in on the blonde's, his eyes drilling into hers. Every ounce of confusion and pain he felt poured into her, imploring her to stay. Holding her to a promise she made with no real understanding of what the ramifications would be. She was supposed to help him; only she had no idea what to do. A situation where all the words in the English language would seem perfunctory, all the love and care she could offer not nearly enough to fill the gaping wounds that littered the man's soul. Never had her failings been so startlingly obvious. Never had she been so out of her depth.

And James could only feel himself sinking.

He was in free fall, his line cut and there was nothing left to steady him. He had been teetering on the brink, dancing a fine line and now he was one-second away from being swallowed whole. He had managed to drag himself out of the pit, tasting brief moments of clarity, a burning light in the dark that was his broken mind. But the abyss had opened up once again and pulled him back down, deaf to any of his protestations he could feel what progress he had made pulled from him. The one set of hands he thought he could always rely on had missed their mark. The cold had taken him.

"Bucky, you have to remember." Steve's voice cut through the murky haze. Strong and demanding, Captain America was the first to break the silence. The first to tip the precarious balance they had just about managed to hold on to. "Remember who you are."

Steve's eyes were so earnest, so full of heartfelt emotion that James could just about remember to breathe. The pain that was so obviously worn across Steve's tired features was because of him. But James had no idea what the man wanted, or rather he had no way of giving it to him. He wasn't Bucky Barnes anymore, he hadn't been for a long time and the revelation sent him into a tailspin.

In that second he remembered the nights staying up late in the orphanage, the countless beatings he had saved Steve from, riding the rollercoaster on Coney Island until they were sick. He remembered their moments together with such painful clarity it wounded but too much had come to pass since then.

The blood on his hands was there for all to see. Every murder he had committed, every life he had taken weighed on his conscious. He was tarnished, corrupted, damaged. The man Steve wanted to find was there but the years of grime and blood and guilt had warped him. A ruined picture, half covered in shadow was all that he could offer.

Finally it grew too much for the assassin to bear; bowling past Victoria he made another break for it. James' legs powered forward as he tried to ignore the swirling maelstrom of thoughts in his head, smothering the one voice that was screaming at him to stay.

"Goddammit wait," Victoria called out. She was finally forced into action, her body moving with his, the cigarette tumbling to the floor as her hand went for James' wrist.

All that followed was pain. Victoria was forcibly slammed into the brick wall, her head cracking against the mortar as a silver hand wrapped around her neck. The metal digits tightened around her throat, the breath squeezed out of her lungs as she tried to keep calm. Grabbing the bionic arm that had her pinned to the wall she attempted to wrestle free. Her eyes searching for James', but there was nothing there. A blank emptiness confronted her, his gaze was cold and without sympathy.

Hot tears began to fall from Victoria's eyes as the life that normally danced in the brown orbs came so close to being extinguished.

"Bucky stop!" Steve barreled into his friend. A sharp punch to the kidneys had James wincing in pain; his grip loosened and Victoria managed to drag herself free. Tumbling to the floor her breath came in short, sharp wheezes, her throat bruised, her vision blurred by the tears that were now falling thick and fast.

"You have to listen to me. You have to stop." Steve veritably yelled, as he held Bucky tightly to his chest, stopping the other man from moving.

"I can't Steve…" James spat out, his voice full of vitriol and self-loathing. "It's who I am now."

Victoria's eyes were wide open, her brown eyes staring as she crawled forwards, trying to get away. Reaching the alley wall she struggled to stand, her fingers tearing at the brick, giving her something to focus on other than the searing pain that danced across her body, of the horrible feeling that her life was being choked from.

"Victoria…" James swallowed back a sob, his eyes finally landing on the blonde. The guilt surging forth – she was innocent.

"No…." The blonde rasped, shaking her head, her eyes blood shot as she tried to steady herself. Sweet air filling her lungs with every breath, she had to remember she was alive.

"Steve get off of me." James growled. His limbs stilling as he relaxed in Captain America's hold. "I'm not going to do anything."

Steve looked towards Victoria; the blonde gave the smallest, most indecipherable of nods. Releasing the man in his grip Steve took a tentative step back, granting James the space he needed.

"Bucky, you have to come home."

"One more fucking word and I swear to God…." A shuddering breath escaped James' chest. For the time being his primary concern was the girl. Steve could wait. "Victoria – I didn't mean to."

The blonde bit her lip, her eyes screwing shut as she pressed herself against the grimy building. Willing for the ground to take her, willing for the mess that she was caught up in to stop.

Finally her eyes fluttered open, James was standing a good six feet away from her, right arm outstretched as a look of sheer self-loathing interspersed with a great deal guilt fell across his features.

"Don't worry about me James." Victoria finally managed to rasp out, doing her best to ignore the flinch James wore when he heard his handiwork.

"You… You startled me. I'm not always here, reflex takes control."

Victoria gave the man opposite her a sad smile, "I know."

Slowly pushing herself off the wall Victoria shuffled forward, pulling her cardigan back on to her shoulder as she did so.

When she was practically toe-to-toe with the assassin Victoria slowly raised her hand, her eyes never leaving James'. Very slowly she pressed the palm of her hand against James' cheek. As always her hands were cool, going someway to soothe the man's fevered skin. Falling into her touch James' breathing began to calm.

Pushing down her own anxiousness Victoria forced herself to keep her voice level. "Steve's going to hail us a cab and we're going to get in it and we're going to go home. Ok?"

James nodded mutely, the fight that had coursed through his body only moments before, was gone. At the woman's words Steve stepped out onto the main street, a taxi pulling along side the curb minutes later.

* * *

Victoria resisted the urge to fidget; she was sitting on the edge of a black leather sofa, Bruce Banner's gloved hands feeling at her neck.

"Some soft tissue damage I'd say," Bruce muttered softly. Already there was a mottled blue bruise forming across Victoria's neck. "Swelling and bruising will go down. Maybe try and rest your voice as well."

Victoria snorted, before wincing in pain, her hand going up to tentatively test the bruised flesh of her neck.

Reaching for her phone the blonde muffled a sigh of relief; her brother had failed to notice that she was missing. Although, the chances of her brother checking up on her at four in the morning would be slim. How she was going to explain the sudden injury she had no idea. Some how she didn't think her brother would believe her if she said she'd started to enjoy having someone mildly choke her whilst having sex.

"Steve will want to talk to you, before you go." Bruce spoke gently as he removed the gloves with a snap. "They all will…"

Victoria raised an eyebrow, before whispering. "They?"

"Lets just say there are a couple of interested parties."

"Great." Victoria harrumphed, doing her best to ignore the sharp pain.

Slowly pushing herself off the couch Victoria walked towards the floor to ceiling length windows. Manhattan sat stretched out her below her and on any other night she would have cherished the view. But strangely she had other thoughts occupying her mind.

Pressing her forehead against the cool glass Victoria attempted to collect her thoughts. She didn't know what she'd expected when she'd naively let James Buchanan Barnes into her life. If she was honest with herself practically being choked to death should have been higher up the list of possible outcomes. Sighing she closed her eyes, the throbbing sensation in her neck was slightly dying down thanks to the painkillers she'd been forced into taking.

"He's asleep now."

Victoria turned sharply, her eyes taking in the somewhat defeated looking form of Captain America. In the chaos of the alley she hadn't managed to look at him – really look at him that is. Like all the pictures she'd been exposed to, Steve Rogers was just as handsome in real life. The white dress shirt he wore, sleeves rolled up and collar undone barely hid his impressive physique.

Hands clasped behind his back, head bowed he stood awkwardly in front of Victoria. It seemed that despite his 'upgrade' Steve was still uncertain around women, still shy in situations where he was not called upon to be Captain America. Steve Rogers was still very much muddling through life.

"Asleep?" The blonde questioned archly. Not meaning for her tone to be so acerbic but the night was creeping up on her. The exhaustion already beginning to set in now she had lost the adrenaline boost.

"Sedated." Steve corrected.

Victoria nodded, her mouth a thin line. "You're going to help him right? He's not going to rot in some jail cell?"

"We still need to assess how much of a risk he is."

"He's not a risk." Victoria defended, wondering why the lie came so easily to her lips. Closing her eyes and her hands balling into fists, she tried to find the right words. "I can't deny that he hurt me and a whole lot of other people. But then I don't think you're the one I need to convince…"

Steve smiled wanly. "The others… they don't know where they stand with him. They don't remember him like I do. To them he's the Winter Soldier."

"James," Victoria muttered.

"What?"

"Just something I was thinking about is all. 'The others' know him as the Winter Soldier; to you he's Bucky and every bit of emotional baggage that comes tied to that name. To me, he's James." Victoria shrugged.

"Do you want to stay?" Steve questioned hesitantly, scratching the back of his neck as he did so, a nervous gesture. "It's just that he looked at you. Like somehow you could make it better."

"Was this before or after he tried to strangle me?" Victoria snapped, some of the anger she was keeping closely bottled bubbling over. "Sorry. That wasn't fair."

"No you're right, he's a stranger to you. You're not obliged to…"

"I'm staying with my brother and his girlfriend. I'll need to figure out some excuse but I can stay for a couple of days…" Victoria shifted awkwardly. "Uh, Captain America – Steve – I am sorry."

Steve sighed, and with the exhalation of breath Victoria could see the façade crack, the soldier deflated.

"Yeah, me too."

* * *

**A/N: **First off - "Remember who you are." does not belong to me. It is taken from the comics.

This chapter was pretty hard for me to write, and I hope you guys followed it ok.

Once again thanks for the reviews, follows and favourites. And as always please let me know what you think in the form of a review :)


	6. Chapter 6

"The only time I don't feel like a ghost is when you look at me, because when you look at me, you see me." – Dr. Owen Hunt, _Grey's Anatomy_

* * *

Victoria grimaced under the light; the bruising along her neck was an angry purple – an ugly reminder of the violence James was capable of. Rummaging about in the bag she was currently packing Victoria withdrew a scarf, an old faded thing that had been a gift from her mother. Quickly tying the scrap of material around her neck Victoria hoped her brother wouldn't notice the wounds that had blossomed across her skin, the cotton mix fabric doing its best to hide the extent of the damage. Throwing her remaining clothes into her suitcase Victoria pulled the heavy piece of luggage off the bed.

"Seriously Vic, you're going back to D.C?" Mike's voice was hard; she could hear the anger bubbling under the surface. Her brother was about to add to the list of countless number of disappointments she had subjected him to all in the name of duty.

Victoria stopped, her hands dropping from the suitcase's handle. Her shoulders tensed as she turned to face Mikey, hoping that she wasn't about to start a row. The various excuses she had trialed were all running through her head – clearly telling the truth was out of the question. But how big of a lie could her brother swallow?

"No." Came the blonde's curt response, her finger nervously picking at a loose stich in the seam of her handbag. The blonde's eyes darted about the room, and she to God that she could look less obvious.

"Then?" Mike questioned, his voice harsh and expectant. Arms crossed over his chest, something he had learnt from their older sister Paige, he did his very best impression of overbearing brother.

Victoria sighed, "There's this guy…"

In an instant Mikey's face changed, his expression cleared and the traces of good humour returned to the corners of his mouth.

"A guy? This is where you were last night?" Mike asked, curiosity having taken the place of his stormy anger.

Victoria bit the inside of her cheek; a half-truth was better than a flat out lie. "We hooked up a while back when he was in D.C. but he's based out of New York, so…."

Mike held up his hands in surrender, "You can spare me the details sis. But I gotta say, it's about time you got laid."

Victoria rolled her eyes, "It's not like that."

"Whatever Vic, just as long as he treats you right."

Victoria let out a strangled noise, before covering it with a cough as she tugged nervously at her strategically placed scarf. "Like he was raised in the 1920s."

"Old fashioned type?"

"You have no idea." Victoria mumbled as she hoisted her bag onto her shoulder. "Anyway, I'm getting picked up. We'll do brunch tomorrow, ok?"

"Definitely," Mike nodded. Pulling his sister towards him he wrapped her up in a hug, planting a kiss on the top of head. For a second Victoria let herself relax, taking comfort in her brother's embrace. Blinking back the tears Victoria pulled away from her brother before she could completely break down, offering him a small smile.

"You took the rest of the week off didn't you? You might as well enjoy yourself." Mike winked, before grabbing the suitcase off his sister and making to move the past the blonde, hefting the bag with him.

"Michael, I can manage…"

"Just let me help you for once Vic?"

The blonde sighed, holding up her hands in surrender as she conceded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Michael said somewhat pointedly as he led his sister towards the street, a black SUV already parked along the curb.

* * *

The driver had said very little on their journey to Avenger's Tower, hiding behind his black sunglasses he offered Victoria the most basic of greetings. And then there was silence. Not that Victoria had been looking for a conversation – if she was honest all she wanted to do was sit, forehead pressed against the window as she tried to rearrange the furniture in her head.

Having negotiated the traffic into Manhattan, the security check and the elevator ride up Victoria was finally installed in one of the smaller rooms off from the main living area in the tower. Leaving her suitcase in the middle of the room she promised she would deal with that later. Instead she slumped over the arm of the sofa, legs dangling in the air.

The room they had put her up in was all clean lines and glass. The couch squeaked underneath her – more leather and chrome fittings. The number of soft furnishings in the room was minimal, one side of the room taken up by the ridiculously large windows. The aforementioned sofa was part of a set, coffee table and armchair completing it. A TV and a basic kitchen unit took up the rest of the space. A partition wall separated what she assumed was the bedroom and bathroom from the rest of the apartment.

The space was serviceable but that was all Victoria could say about it. It was like whoever had decorated the room had opened up a catalogue and ordered an entire furniture set but stopped there. She had stepped into what was ostensibly a hotel room minus the King James Bible tucked away in the bedside table.

Dragging herself to her feet Victoria moved towards the window, there was an obvious lack of curtains or blinds. It wasn't as if neighbors overlooked her room but the ability to close off the Earth's populace was something that Victoria liked to have. Ignoring the world was a lot easier to do when you couldn't see it.

Shucking off her jacket the blonde dumped it over the armchair; stretching out her back she explored the rest of the apartment. The bedroom hit its quota for leather, the headboard and frame upholstered in black buckskin, a cream bedspread and impossibly large pillows adorning the king sized bed. Shuffling forwards Victoria went into the bathroom; there was a sunken bath and walk in shower, the marble titles were warm underfoot.

Heading back into her sleeping quarters Victoria was grateful to see a set of blinds discretely folded away. Clearly the panoramic vista was to be sacrificed in order to block out Manhattan's excessive light population in favour for a good night's sleep. Victoria doubted there would be any voyeurs this high up but the blinds' presence was a reassuring one.

Back tracking into the living room Victoria quickly shoved her suitcase into the bedroom but her clothes remained stubbornly packed away.

"Miss Miller?"

Victoria jumped at the sound of the disembodied voice.

"Hello?"

"Hello. I've been asked to ascertain whether you need anything."

"Um. I'm good, thanks… Can I ask who you are?" Victoria turned slowly on the spot as she addressed the air around her.

"Just A Rather Very Intelligent System, Ma'am. Jarvis, if you prefer."

"You're a computer?" Victoria clarified.

"If it helps you to think in those terms, then yes." Jarvis sniffed.

"You're Stark's?"

"I'm not sure I like the implication that Mr. Stark has any proprietary hold over me, but he did write my code, he is in a sense my maker…"

Victoria sighed, holding up her hands in apology. "Sorry, I'm a little new to this."

"Not at all. Ms Potts has told me to inform you that there is a fully stocked fridge in your apartment, she hastens to add she will be home this evening. Mr Stark is somewhat engaged so cannot make your acquaintance just yet."

"Steve?" Victoria questioned, a tinge of hope in her voice. A familiar face would not go amiss.

"Captain Rogers is currently in the gym. I can direct you there if you wish? You have a free reign of the tower, although some living quarters and areas will remain off limits, you do understand."

Victoria nodded; wondering if the AI had some capacity to see her. "Jarvis?"

"Yes Ms. Miller."

"James, where's he?"

"Sergeant Barnes is in the infirmary two floors up, Dr. Banner is monitoring his condition."

"Thanks Jarvis," Victoria gave the computer a small wave before heading towards the door.

* * *

Tracing the steps she had taken earlier that morning Victoria soon found herself hitting the call button and waiting for the elevator to take her up to the higher levels of the building. With a quiet rush the lift arrived, its doors opening seamlessly to reveal a dimly lit interior.

Pressing the button for the appropriate floor Victoria waited patiently, a small ping announcing that she had arrived at her destination. The heavy doors rolled back to reveal a vast expanse of glass, what appeared to be the infirmary and Bruce's office just beyond. Stepping out the blonde made her way to the man slumped over his desk.

"Dr. Banner?" Victoria called out, her hand reaching out to tap the man on the shoulder.

Jolting upright Bruce fumbled for his glasses, "Sorry. Must've dozed off."

"Don't worry about it," Victoria smiled. "How's he doing?"

"Bucky?" Bruce questioned, his eyes quietly assessing the woman in front of him.

"Yeah, is he still…" Victoria tailed off, the words just stopping short. Despite reprimanding Steve the night before, she couldn't say it. She'd rather deal in euphuisms or telling silences.

"Sedated? No. Steve tried to talk to him this morning; I can't say it went exceptionally well. Cap would've been around to greet you but I think he went to take out his frustrations on a punching bag." Bruce slumped back into his chair, hand automatically reaching for his mug of coffee. Upon taking a sip he winced. "You want some coffee? I'm gonna make some more."

"I'm good thanks." Victoria smiled, before walking towards what she assumed was an examination room. "Is he in there?"

"Yes," Bruce nodded as he stood up. "I'm not sure I should let you in there Victoria. You're not exactly built to handle your head being bashed in a couple of times, not like Steve."

"I can handle myself."

Bruce smiled sadly, "He's a trained assassin."

"I know," Victoria's eyes flicked towards Bruce. "He's restrained isn't he?"

"A necessary precaution."

"So if he does anything stupid you bust in and shoot him up with a tranquilizer."

"That's your failsafe?" Bruce questioned wryly.

Victoria bit her lip; she knew that James was dangerous. The rational and logical side of her that was afraid of what he could do to her was screaming for her to stop. But she couldn't, not when her overriding need was to find out if he was ok.

"I'll be fine." Victoria insisted, reaching out to squeeze Bruce's shoulder.

"God help me," Bruce muttered as he led her towards the door, his fingers passing quickly over the keypad fixed to the lock. Pressing down on the cool metal handle Victoria pushed open the door.

James was sat hunched on the bed, his head buried in his knees. The only sign that he heard Victoria come in was the slight twitch in the fingers of his right hand. Victoria shifted, her blonde hair tumbling down her shoulder, pushing it impatiently out of her face she tried to speak but her brain had decided to shut down.

The smell of jasmine and mint wafted over James, instinctively his gaze flitted upwards to confirm what he already knew.

"Victoria?" His voice was hoarse; his eyes blood shot as James brought his head up to look at the woman.

"Hi," Victoria inched forward; pulling the discarded chair with her she quickly sat down. James suddenly uncoiled himself, his legs swinging over the side of the bed to sit opposite her. Resisting the urge to shirk back in fear Victoria forced herself to study James's restraints.

His hands were cuffed together, a set of chains from his wrists were secured against the bindings on his feet. His was allowed some movement, but the possibility of getting away fast was somewhat dampened. Although the whole exercise in restraining him seemed somewhat moot, Victoria could see the silver glint of his left arm and she doubted a set of cuffs would hold him back if he wanted out.

Unbeknown to her James' hands had reached forward and in one swift motion he had pulled the scarf from Victoria's neck. Muffling a whimper of fear the blonde looked towards the former assassin, the blue scarf was held limply between his metal fingers and for a second Victoria had the devastating urge to run. Shuffling towards the edge of the bed James held up both of his hands, his eyes searching for Victoria's as he waited for permission to touch her. The blonde bit her lip before giving a small nod by way of acquiescing. James' metal fingers curled down as he pulled his bionic arm into his chest, it was only with his right hand that he reached forward. Eventually flesh and blood fingers were gently running across the bruised skin of Vitoria's neck.

The blonde's eyes screwed shut as her heart beat a violent tattoo against her chest, hot messy tears escaping from under her eyelids only to land on her cheeks. Victoria bit back a gasp as James' thumb wiped away the salty droplets.

"I'm sorry," his voice was thick with barely controlled emotion. "You didn't have to come back… You shouldn't have come back."

Victoria let loose a shuddering sigh, her fingers coming up to capture James', bringing down his hand she held it against her chest. "You lost control for a second. You weren't there for a second…"

James gently teased his hand free, pulling away from Victoria he suddenly missed the warmth. "But that's a part of me Victoria. I'm programed to kill people. They sent me out there and I murdered in their name."

Victoria's forehead creased in concern, hunching forward she resisted the urge to touch James. "Did you have a choice?"

James frowned; it was a simple enough question. "No."

"I know it won't change what you did, I don't think anything will, but you have to remember you didn't have a choice. And now you do. Now you decided what kind of person you'll be. "

"Steve's want me to…" James began, tears dangerously close to spilling over.

"Steve loves you and Steve will take whatever you give him." Victoria replied emphatically, and somewhat impulsively she leant forward, placing a chaste kiss against James' forehead.

"You don't know Steve," James mumbled.

"I'm a good judge of character," Victoria shrugged. "And speak of the Devil."

"Ms. Miller, I'm really sorry, I should have…" Captain America began, his eyes earnest as he hung back by the door.

"Don't worry about it," Victoria smiled wanly. "I'll leave you two alone."

* * *

Waving her goodbye to Dr. Banner, Victoria wandered back towards the elevator bank. As much as she would have liked to stay with James she had been filled with the urge to flee, feelings of not quite belonging flooding her system. Drifting down the corridor Victoria was paying little attention to her surroundings and it was only until she hit a rather solid object that she realized she wasn't alone. Looking up she realized the solid object had a set of rather defined arms. Taking a step back Victoria surveyed the man in front of her.

"I don't think we've met, Victoria." The blonde gave a tentative smile, holding out her hand.

"Clint." The man briefly took the blonde's hand in his own as he administered a firm shake. Beneath her fingers Victoria could feel several callouses that ran along the palm of his hand. She could see the hard outlines of worry about his eyes.

"Why haven't you run yet?" Clint growled as he cut to the chase.

Victoria stuck out her chin and squared her shoulders; strangely the actions filled her with a confidence she didn't feel. "What do you mean?"

"You don't know this guy from Adam and you're helping him? I get Steve; he thinks Barnes can be _saved. _Me – not so much."

"Why not?" Victoria asked, her head cocking to one side as she tried to fix Clint with a look equally hard as his.

"Because you never walk away from that life. It doesn't matter if it's the enemies that you've made or the guilt, the past always catches up with you." Clint's voice was flat and the weight of the words weren't lost on Victoria.

"Are you speaking from personal experience?"

The man smirked but there was no warmth to reach his eyes. "Every day I try to wash the blood off my hands. Every day I wake up wondering whether it's finally time for the skeletons to break out of my closet. Every day I try and atone for the hundreds of marks against my name."

"Doesn't he deserve that too?" The blonde challenged, wondering where this guy had come from. Clearly he was one of the ones Bruce and Steve had mentioned.

"There are some things you just don't come back from. Do yourself a favour – read his file." Clint barked, as he thrust a manila envelope towards Victoria. Raising an eyebrow the man waited expectantly.

"I don't scare easily you know…."

"You should."

"Isn't this classified information?"

"SHIELD's defunct. Besides, you need to prepare yourself. You need to know exactly what he's done and what he's capable of. Have a good day Victoria."

In a matter of seconds Victoria was left standing alone, a brown envelope with the word 'classified' stamped across it clutched in her hand. Despite herself, her curiosity had been piqued and for the life of her she'd forgotten what happened to the cat.

* * *

**A/N: **There will be some Bucky/Steve quality time ahead.

I hope Clint doesn't come across as too much of an asshole but he knows of the Winter Soldier in a professional capacity so he's not exactly James' number one fan.

Once more thank you for all the follows, favourites and reviews. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and please let me know what you think in the form of a review!


	7. Chapter 7

"You are the only one who has understood even a whisper of me, and I will tell you that I am the only person who has understood even a whisper of you."

― Jonathan Safran Foer, _Everything Is Illuminated_

* * *

"I don't know what to tell you," James muttered, his voice hollow, his eyes blinking morosely in the dim light. Victoria had long gone, leaving the two men alone, unspoken words heavy between them.

"How about what you remember?" Steve replied, leaning back in his chair as he observed his friend attempting to keep his expression as encouraging as possible.

James gave a small empty chuckle, his right hand running through his already disheveled hair. Thoughts were dancing through his head; the urge to sock Steve in the jaw was altogether far too appealing. He didn't want to talk. Not to Steve. He couldn't handle the expectations; he couldn't attempt to live up to the man that he used to be.

Finally James spoke, the words slipping from his lips in a quiet stream of derision. "I remember you. If that's what you want to hear."

"Bucky…" Steve sighed, a growl of frustration threatening to escape his chest. Clenching his fist the captain looked at the man opposite him, forcing himself to remain positive, yelling had only proved to be counter-productive. "I'd love for you to remember every little detail like I do. I'd love for everything to just fall back into place – how it used to be. But I know that's not going to happen. So all I want is for you to talk to me…"

The look of sheer desperation on Steve's face was enough and James heaved a deep breath, conceding that perhaps he owed it to the man opposite him to try at least a little.

"There are some things I can remember as clear as day but mostly it's hazy, like when you wake up from a dream. Summer 1938 though, I remember you were sweet on that broad, Lucy Danvers. Remember - she was all legs and red hair with the prettiest smile you could imagine. And you, you were so goddamned shy.

"So I end up taking her to the pictures and what do you do, like a punk you ignore me for weeks. So I keep taking Lucy out, she liked dancing you know? And you keep ignoring me. It's only until I mention that maybe, just maybe, I might get lucky and you take a swing at me. Saying somethin' about how to treat a lady." Laughter bubbled in James' chest and for a second the vast weight of his anxieties were lifted.

"You had less than honorable intentions Bucky." Steve shot back, a small grin tugging at his mouth.

At the use of his nickname James tensed, he still wasn't ready to acknowledge everything that came with it. Shaking off the sudden wave of inertia that was threatening to engulf him, James chuckled. "Can't say I've ever had any complaints."

Steve rolled his eyes, "Because you were never around to hear them."

James let out a laugh, his eyes creasing at the corners in good humour. "Lets not compare dance cards Steve."

"I've had offers…" Steve countered somewhat petulantly.

"Girls always did love a fella in uniform. Did you ever actually take them?" James questioned wryly, his eyebrow raising.

Steve's silence was all the answer James needed and he was soon howling in laughter.

"Go ahead, laugh it up," Steve shrugged.

James quickly sobered, "I remember Bobby's too. That grimy diner we used to go to, hot black coffee and eggs so good you could've sworn your own mother made 'em. That still around?"

"Brooklyn's not like that any more. According to Clint there are just hipsters in Williamsburg."

"Hipsters?" James questioned, leaning back against the headboard with his newly unshackled hands placed firmly in his lap.

"30-year-old men with beards riding fixed gear bikes and drinking microbrews. Oh and glasses. Something about glasses." Steve reeled off, before giving a confused shrug.

"Right… so the old neighbourhood?"

"Not the same." Steve shook his head quickly,

"Story of our lives… World's changed without us." James muttered, his voice heavy. "I'd like to see it with you again but gimme time ok? And right now, I think maybe I need you to leave me alone."

"Buck…" Steve began.

"Please Steve," James implored. "I need a little space to decompress, ok?"

Nodding slowly the super solider conceded his friend's point, "Just ask Jarvis if you need me."

James nodded his head, but already Steve could tell his friend wasn't really there anymore; whatever he refused to, or couldn't talk about, was clearly playing on his mind.

* * *

Victoria's hands shook as she held the envelope between forefinger and thumb. Sitting cross-legged on the sofa she stared at the dossier, inside she knew all the secrets SHIELD had on the Winter Solider were there. Printed in damning black and white text. Clint had offered her an opportunity to peel back the layers, to look behind the curtain and see the man for who he really was.

Clint had offered her a chance to look at the folder so she would finally understand what James was capable of. Or rather, she would finally see him for the Winter Soldier. She would stop seeing the man and she would see the villain instead. She would see the monster she was supposed to be scared of, the twisted acts he had committed no longer half thought about and veiled in mystery, but confirmed and brought under the harsh light for closer inspection.

With shaking fingers Victoria pulled back the cover, the first page was covered in redacted statements, there were more black marks than text. But despite the great swathes of censored report, Victoria was able to ascertain the Winter Soldier's first credited hit. The man had been a political target, Alexei Belyakov was found with his throat slit in a hotel room. There was next to no evidence and only the hushed whisperings of a few scared intelligence operatives.

The next entry on the _resume _was the murder of a four star general. Victoria blanched as a picture tumbled into her lap, the man had obviously been garroted, the deep welts across his neck clear despite the grainy picture. Swallowing heavily Victoria continued to read, far off cities in Europe she had never dreamed of visiting provided the backdrop for some of the most efficient and ruthless killings she'd ever heard of.

Finally Victoria came to recent history, an operative merely known as the Black Widow had been shot through the stomach by the Winter Soldier, the man behind her the intended victim, the Widow merely collateral damage. Victoria shuddered, a small whimper escaping from between her lips. Quite suddenly the police officer threw the folder bodily across the room, the loose sheets of paper floating to the ground in a messy pile of bloody secrets. She wasn't about to keep reading – she wasn't about to dissect a man's life when he had no chance to tell his own story.

Victoria's stomach churned, a familiar acid like tang tickling the back of her throat. Breathing deeply she ran her hands through her hair, clenching the golden locks as she tried to focus. The urge to throw up continued to bubble in her stomach as her breathing came out in short sharp gasps. Closing her eyes Victoria swayed in her seat, she'd discharged her weapon in the line of the duty – firing off three slugs into the chest of a would-be killer. And it didn't matter how far she'd moved past the event, the guilt still niggled at her. James had countless marks against his name, his ledger was full and the fact that he was still functioning was beyond her.

Forcing herself off the couch Victoria moved towards the window, her head banging against the glass as she attempted to push the vivid images out of her head. Victoria's hands shook at her side as she attempted to keep her breathing steady. James deserved more and she would give it to him.

Gritting her teeth she exploding into action, launching herself towards the door and away from her room. Flying down the well-lit corridor Victoria came to an abrupt halt as her hand hit the call button for the elevator frantically, her eyes fixed on the dial that told her the lift was climbing upwards.

* * *

James shuffled awkwardly forward, his eyes flitting upwards to glance at Victoria's face. Her hand was still clamped firmly round his. He couldn't remember the last time he'd held a girls hand. Whilst somewhat alien, the sensation was not altogether displeasing.

He couldn't explain the warmth that had unfurled in his chest when Victoria's fingers had ensnared his own, pulling him towards her with such casual ease. It was a matter of minutes before she was dragging him out of the room that currently housed him. Victoria's grip had been unrelenting as she led him through corridors and up stairs until James found himself being buffeted by the fierce wind, an infinite skyline stretching out in front of him.

They were standing on what Victoria had called the deck, the city air surrounding them, the hot summer sun beating down on their shoulders as Victoria held James loosely against her body. The blonde had still failed to say anything since first appearing as a furious ball of unstoppable energy, insisting on breaking him out of his room. The fresh air and a view of the city would apparently do him good. Not that he'd been paying much attention to his surroundings.

Victoria's presence was overwhelming him again. The smell of her perfume seemed to pervade the very air, his body responding to the now familiar fragrance of mint and jasmine. He could feel his muscles relax as he committed her scent to memory, the burning desire to pull her close and never let her go overwhelming.

Victoria's blonde hair floated about her in the breeze, her eyes squinting as she looked into the middle distance, her teeth worrying at her lower lip and James could have sworn he'd never seen anything so lovely.

And when her brown eyes suddenly met his gaze his breath hitched in his throat. Because when she looked at him there were no expectations, no demands. She simply saw him for who he was, a broken man struggling to hold himself together. Her hands had helped him pick up the pieces and those were hers to keep forever.

He could feel Victoria's thumb running a pattern across the top of his hand, it was an absent-minded gesture, suggesting enough of a familiarity between them. Finally James' eyes settled on Victoria's neck, the mottled bruise contrasted horribly with her fair skin, he could just make out the marks his fingers had left behind. Tightening his grip on Victoria's hand he pulled her round to face him.

A sudden gust of wind rushed past them, Victoria's hair flying into his eyes. Instinctively his hand shot forward, capturing the errant strands he pushed them back, tucking the curls behind Victoria's ear. With his hand cupped against her cheek James pulled her closer. A part of him recognized the steps to a long forgotten dance, all he had to do now was smile and dip his head.

Except that wasn't what he was supposed to be doing. This wasn't an act of seduction, Victoria wasn't there to be used and discarded. She was worth more than that.

Victoria bit her lip, her brown eyes dragging upwards as she offered him a small, wan smile. Finally the question she had been attempting to ask tumbled from her lips, her voice wavering in discomfort. "Do you remember them?"

"Remember who?" James questioned, his body shifting as his voice took on an edge. It was one thing to talk to Steve about the good old days, but this was different.

"The people that you…" Victoria petered off, her voice breaking as she attempted to pulled herself together. "Clint, Hawkeye I think, gave me a file. He gave me your file." The blonde corrected, her eyes shooting upwards as she tried to gauge James' reaction.

"Did you read it?"

Victoria's lips were pursed tightly together; her eyes half hooded as she slowly nodded her head. "Not all of it though. I couldn't…. It felt too intrusive."

"And now?" James questioned, his voice harder than he would have liked as he suddenly let his hand drop from Victoria's face. "What do you think now?"

"I… Clint gave me the file because he said I needed to know. Because I _need_ to know how dangerous you are."

"Now you know." James nodded curtly before stepping away, his back turning as he began to make his way inside.

"James!" Victoria called out as she raced forward, her body veritably slamming into James' as she tried to make him stop. Planting the flats of her hands against the man's chest she shoved, hard. "Stop."

James gave her cold grin, "C'mon baby doll, run away. Run away screaming because you've finally uncovered the monster."

"For fuck's sake James." Victoria breathed, her hand slapping against his torso to emphasize her point. "I read a report and there were bare facts, nothing else. I know how many. I know when and where. I know you're dangerous, I knew that before I read anything. But reading that file did feel intrusive, I had no right to that information but I took it anyway.

"You need to talk about what happened to you, stuff like that isn't brushed under the carpet." Victoria said stoutly, her eyes full assurance as her fingers wound tightly around James' shirt collar. "But if Steve isn't the person to do it with because he won't understand or because you just can't – I'll sit with you until you're ready…. I'll listen."

"Jesus Victoria, there's a trail of bloody corpse behind me. My history is brutal and bloody. That guy was right; you need to know what I've done because for some reason you're not scared enough. For some reason you're not disgusted by the very sight of me…." James' voice cracked, tears dangerously close to falling as he blinked furiously in attempt to stem the tide.

Releasing her grip on James' top Victoria's hands moved to his face, pulling him down so their eyes met, Victoria held his gaze. Tears had begun to stream down James' cheeks, under the fierce midday sun Victoria could see the flecks of green that streaked his blue eyes, she could see every care etched into his skin, she could see a man unspooling before her.

"I'm looking right at you James and I see absolutely nothing that disgusts me."

Leaning upwards Victoria placed a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth, the salt stinging her lips as she pulled away.

James slumped forwards, his body falling against Victoria's, enveloping her in an embrace. The blonde's skin was hot against his as their limbs entwined together, the feel of her body beneath his was seared into his consciousness as James was given one moment free of crushing self-loathing and guilt.

"Can we sit out here a while?" James finally whispered, his mouth pressed up against the side of Victoria's face.

"For as long as you want," Victoria promised.

* * *

**A/N: **Haha! I got round the error message of death in the document manager.

Thanks for all follows, reviews and favourites. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and have a great bank holiday weekend - Easter eggs a plenty tomorrow.

As always drop a review and let me know what you think!


	8. Chapter 8

"We need never be hopeless because we can never be irreparably broken."

― John Green, _Looking for Alaska_

* * *

The steady pound of feet on the cold tarmac accompanied by heavy breathing and a racing heartbeat were the soundtrack to Victoria's ran. With the cool night air acting as a soothing salve on her hot skin Victoria kept up her brutal pace. Hurriedly wiping off the sheen of sweat that had gathered on her forehead the blonde urged herself onwards. Her legs screamed in protest as she rounded the corner, nearly bowling into an old woman as she crossed the street. Shouting a rushed apology over her shoulder Victoria continued on her way.

The rhythmic beating of her heart echoed in her ears and reverberated throughout her body. Focusing on the sonorous sound Victoria tried to force everything else out of her head. She wanted the world to fall away, all that mattered was the road ahead and the distant horizon she was reaching for. But she couldn't let go; her thoughts kept spiraling towards James, the swirling maelstrom of emotions in her chest failing to settle.

Gritting her teeth Victoria fell into a flat out sprint, she wanted to leave it all behind, the urge to outrun her problems all too persistent. But it didn't matter how many miles she ran, a pair of familiar blue eyes kept dragging her back, the irrepressible weight of responsibility and guilt crushing down on her.

Victoria had deposited James back in his room an hour or so after their conversation on the roof. Bruce had merely glanced at her over the top of his spectacles, the simple act enough to sufficiently chastise her that she ducked out of the room, no further words spoken. James had merely offered Victoria a wan smile as he shut the door behind her. In that moment the desire to reach out towards him and wrap the man up in her limbs and been all too powerful.

The idea that she was somehow helping James was the only thing that had her changing course and returning to Avengers Tower. The dense muddle of indecipherable emotions she now seemed to constantly drag around reared angrily in her chest. She so clearly knew she wanted to help James but the dark ugly thought that was never too far away scratched at the back of her mind – had too much blood been spilt already? James would have her believe that his soul was black and his hands no strangers to sin. James would have her believe that he was a broken, twisted, depraved monster so far beyond salvation.

Victoria's fingers absently went to stroke her neck – she blinked. The memory of his silver hand squeezing tightly around her prone flesh was forcibly brought to the fore. A shuddering sob escaped her chest that had nothing to do with the rigorous exercise she was putting herself though.

The blonde suddenly veered off course, her side crashing into the brick wall of a nameless Manhattan building. The smell of hot rotting garbage hit her nose and Victoria wretched, her hands on her knees she bent forwards, her hair falling into her face. Roughly wiping her mouth the blonde leant heavily against the cold, grimy brick, her breathing shallow as she attempted to collect her thoughts. Coughing to clear her throat Victoria spat a wad of spittle onto the blackened concrete, hitting her head against the wall Victoria tried to drag herself back into the present.

Her eyes fluttered shut; he hadn't meant to hurt her. But there were only so many times she could tell herself that. Despite whatever she might tell him, despite knowing that he hadn't meant to injure her – he still had. Her neck bore the truth. Her fingers gripped the masonry behind her, nails scrabbling at the brick as she attempted to bring her breathing back under control, to force down the rebellious thoughts. She had to shelve her feelings.

Victoria felt a buzz against her arm, her eyes drifted down to the phone strapped against her limb. Wrenching it free she pressed it against her ear.

"Hello?"

"Why don't you bring him tomorrow?" Mike's voice questioned as he ignored any pleasantries that might require him to say hello to his sister first.

"Bring who?" Victoria muttered, her mind still halfway somewhere else.

"The guy…" Mikey explained slowly, she could almost hear the roll of his eyes.

"Bring him where? And what guy?" Victoria replied, remaining stubbornly obtuse.

"Bring the guy you're seeing to brunch tomorrow."

"Like a double date?" the blonde bit back a sigh. Even if her fictitious man friend were real she wouldn't want to spend an entire morning in the company of her brother and his girlfriend on a date. The whole scenario seemed excruciatingly awkward. That, and she wasn't even sure James knew what brunch was. Forcing the ex assassin to pretend to be her boyfriend just so she could satisfy her brother's curiosity seemed both cruel and unfair. Not to mention embarrassing. She had failed to tell James the manufactured reason Mikey had demanded of her when she'd moved into the Avengers Tower.

"If you want to call it that," Mikey answered nonchalantly. "So?"

"Maybe…" Victoria found herself hedging. "We're not exactly at that stage yet."

"You have gone to stay with him Victoria, how are you not at that stage?"

"Well we don't exactly leave the building much…" The blonde muttered, well aware she was making out that she and James enjoyed a far more intimate relationship than they actually did.

Michael groaned, his eyes screwing shut as an unwelcome thought crossed his mind. "Well if you guys can drag yourselves out of bed and keep your hands off each other whilst you're in the presence of polite company then I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll let you know." Victoria promised before shutting off the call and stowing her phone.

Smacking a clenched fist into the wall behind her Victoria pushed off, determined to leave her minor break down in the grimy forgotten alleyway.

* * *

Pulling the bowstring taught he waited, his eyes narrowed as he observed the target. The familiar wave of zen like clarity hit him as he stared at the bull's-eye. His breathing slowed and everything else ceased to matter. In an instant his mind was a glorious blank, everything that had been plaguing him moments before melted into the background. The world had been set to mute and all he could feel was the bow beneath his hands, his fingers tickling at his cheek as he waited to loose the arrow.

Using the steady thud of his heart as a metronome Clint counted slowly to ten, a familiar tune fluttering about his head. On the downbeat he exhaled and the arrow shot forward. Eying the target Clint allowed himself a small grin; the shaft had hit dead center. Walking further away the archer repositioned himself; he might as well make it a little bit of a challenge.

Clint abruptly stiffened; the slight creak of the door alerting him to the presence of someone else in the room. The dead silence that followed caused him to whirl around and notch another arrow before leveling his compound bow at the intruder's chest.

"You shouldn't be down here." The archer intoned, his voice hard. Eyes narrowing in distaste Clint took in the stranger, the unmistakable glint of metal shining under the bright overhead lighting caused the Avenger to take a calculated step back. The muscles in his back tensing as he rocked on the balls of his feet.

Clint's gaze momentarily flitted towards the one and only exit, the Winter Soldier directly obscuring his route. The archer shifted his weight as the muscles in his arms screamed at him to let the arrow fly but he needed to weigh his options.

One exit and an ex Soviet assassin blocking his route didn't exactly conjure brilliant odds to mind, but the Winter Soldier had yet to declare his intentions. Although Clint highly doubted Barnes was there just to chat.

"The door wasn't locked." The man replied simply, his gaze dispassionate as he dragged his eyes lazily across Clint's frame. His actions causing Hawkeye's hackles to rise, Barnes clearly wasn't intimidated.

Barton issued a noncommittal sound from somewhere in the back of his throat, "I didn't realize you were allowed out by yourself."

"I was looking for Steve," James replied smoothly as he offered Clint an offhand shrug still painfully aware that Barton had an arrow trained directly at his chest.

"Well he's not here," Clint offered calmly, his voice barely wavering as he put his best poker face in place.

The two assassins quietly observed as they reached a silent impasse, both men weighing the other up as they attempted to find any possible weakness to be exploited. Clint's eyes unconsciously focused on the Winter Soldier's left arm, the white sleeve of James' Henley was rolled up to the elbow exposing his metal forearm. Barton squinted as he looked for any possible flaw in the joints, anywhere he could jam an arrowhead and potentially disable the Winter Soldier's primary weapon.

James rolled his shoulders back, his tightly coiled muscles shifting underneath his shirt. The familiar predatory urge to attack fluttering through James' body as he tried to judge how easily he could avoid one of Clint's arrows once the archer had loosed a shaft.

Taking a confident step forward James placed himself directly in front of Clint, the arrowhead skimming the thin cotton of his shirt.

"Why'd you show her the file?"  
Clint's eyes widened, the question an entirely unsuspected one. Quite suddenly he relaxed his grip on the bowstring, placing the bow on the floor beside him Barton sent James a calculating glare

"She needed to know."

"You didn't think I'd tell her?" James spat back; his blue eyes narrowed as a wave of anger threatened to overtake him.

"Honestly, no." Clint shrugged.

"You don't even know me," James muttered, his eyes dropping to the floor.

"At the risk of sounding like some jerk from a chick flick, do you even know who you are?"

James sighed, suddenly deflated, the anger wiped from his eyes. "I would have told her."

"What's done is done." Clint offered diplomatically. "She clearly doesn't have her head screwed on right as for some reason she's stuck around."

"You don't think I'm worth saving do you?" James whispered, his voice dangerously close to breaking.

"Only because I've no idea why people have bothered with me," Clint shrugged, his gaze his impassive. Scratching the back of his neck the archer suddenly fixed James with a piercing glare. "You think about them don't you? Every night you see their faces."

"Some." James replied, turning away from the archer. "I don't remember them all."

"Maybe you should read the file…"

"Probably," James let out a cold, bark like laugh. "I spent years in between missions in stasis, my memories were scrubbed whenever I got close to uncovering something or my conscious decided to make an appearance. It doesn't exactly make much sense in my head… But everything's sharper when she's there."

"You're not exactly being fair on her are you?" Clint questioned shrewdly, a frown marring his features.

"Probably not," James conceded. "But then what the hell would you know? We're just strangers to you, the only reason you're slightly concerned about Victoria's welfare is because you can't handle the guilt."

Turning away James made to leave, his back to the Avenger, his cold dismissive words hanging in the air. In one swift movement the archer was surging forward, his arm reaching out to grab James by the shoulder. The second the archer's hand touched the assassin Clint knew he'd made a mistake. The Winter Soldier swept round, his body wrenching free of Clint's grasp. In one fluid motion James had thrown his arm into Clint's chest, the archer tumbling to the floor on impact.

To his credit the archer didn't miss a beat, in a matter of seconds he had flipped back onto his feet. Moving away from the Winter Soldier Clint grabbed an abandoned bō from a nearby stand. With a flourish he leveled the wooden staff at James' throat.

"You're light on your feet." The solider responded casually, his eyes flitting warily to the weapon in Clint's hands.

"Comes with the job," Hawkeye snapped, his voice level as he forced his arms to stay steady.

James smirked, "Seriously, you wanna go?"

Clint grit his teeth, there was nothing he would like to do more than test his mettle against the Winter Soldier. But he had a feeling that Barnes could quite easily put him in a full body cast, or send him to the morgue. Either way, he was pretty certain Natasha wouldn't talk to him again.

"Trust me, there's nothing I'd like more…"

"Then what's stopping you?" James taunted, his eyes glinting with a deadly humour.

"Respect for me."

And Steve. Steve would totally kill him if he tried anything Clint thought ruefully as he eyed the familiar presence of Captain America.

"Bucky. You're with me." Steve barked, his gaze uncharacteristically harsh as he surveyed the scene with a mixture of anger and disappointment. Neither James nor Clint could tell what was directed at them.

"What the hell Bucky?" Steve growled when the two were safely outside of the training room.

"Steve…" James ground out, doing his best to keep his voice level. He wasn't ready for Steve's sanctimonious bull crap.

"Half of these guys think you're some deranged killer, you can't go picking fights with the Avengers."

James laughed mirthlessly, "Goddammit Steve. That's exactly what I am. When are you going to figure out that I'm not Bucky. Never gonna be."

Steve looked like James had punched him in the face. "Buck…"

"Jesus Christ Steve, what do I have to tell you? Do I have to tell you my number? Here's a clue, it's in the double figures. Do I have to tell you I killed man whilst his daughter slept in the next room – the guy was swimming in his own blood by the end of it.

"That kid who left Brooklyn? He's gone. The War changed me and maybe I could have dealt with that. But what HYRDA did to me? What I did when I was with the Red Room? A man doesn't come back from that Steve.

"Stone cold doesn't even being to cover it…."

There was nothing that he could do. There was nothing more he could say for Steve to understand. Before he could make his excuses and retreat to the relative seclusion of his room, James suddenly felt Steve's hands wrap around his shoulders as his former friend shoved him into the wall.

"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. You might have done some truly horrendous things. But you are still my friend. And nothing is going to change that. You're my family James and if you think for one second that I'm going to abandon you because you have a questionable history, then you need to think again.

"What I told you that day still stands – I'm with you till the end of the line." Steve repeated empathically. His eyes full of such heart wrenching sincerity James found himself beginning to tremble.

"Steve, I don't know if I can…." James sobbed, tears pouring freely as he began to shake uncontrollably.

Pulling James towards him Steve wrapped his friend in a firm embrace, his hand gripping tightly at Bucky's hair as he tried to pour every ounce of strength into the broken solider. Steve's own heart breaking as he tried to catch all the pieces that were clearly falling away.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry this chapter took me much longer to update! I had to move out of my flat for a couple of days so a new bathroom suite could be fitted. Little bit of a mess. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter! There will be some major James/Victoria interaction next chapter.

Thanks again for all the reviews, follows and favourites. And as always, please leave your thoughts in the form a review!


	9. Chapter 9

"He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream and he sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying it."

― Douglas Adams, _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_

* * *

_The assassin grunted in pain as a paperweight was flung at his head only to just skim his shoulder as he pitched sideways. Exploding into action the Winter Soldier sprinted ahead before dropping to his knees, letting his forward momentum drag him on as he skid across the polished wooded floorboards. A well-placed punch against his target's knee had the general dropping to the floor. The soldier brought up his left arm, his elbow connecting sharply with the older man's face, the familiar crack of bone heard as the soldier leapt to his feet. _

_Dragging the man back up with him the assassin delivered a hefty kick to the general's stomach before brutally shoving the bleeding man into his desk chair. With a guttural yell the general was charging forwards, his arms wrapping around the assassin's torso as he attempted to gain purchase, lifting his assailant he bodily threw him against the wall. The Winter Soldier's head cracked against the beige wallpaper, shaking off the feeling of dizziness he blocked the blow aimed for his head. Sending a devastating upper cut to the general's jaw the Winter Solider had his target back in the office chair. _

_Reaching for the gun tucked away in his holster the assassin aimed his pistol at the man's chest and three successive shots delivered with such detached elegance followed. His eyes barely fluttering as his left arm absorbed the kick of the well-used weapon. _

_Blood splattered against the opposite wall, the disturbed desk lamp casting a horrible light across the scene as a man lay dead. _

_Pressing the comms link against his ear, a voice crackled down the line as the radio flared to life. "What's your status soldier?" _

"_The target has been neutralized. No witnesses left alive." _

"_Are you sure?" _

"_Yes." The Winter Soldier reaffirmed, warm slick blood sloughing off his fingers as he spoke into his recently reconnected radio. _

"_Gather the information and return to base."_

"_Affirmative." _

_Letting the earpiece dangle from the concealed wire the soldier turned back towards the lifeless figure slumped over his desk. The dead man's blood was matted across his forehead, his skin drained of colour. His white shirt stained red as the three wounds ran thick with blood. _

_Overturning several bookcases and ripping numerous paintings from the walls of the office the soldier looked for a concealed safe. Finally a metal door was revealed, cracking the lock with relative ease the safe opened and the several papers that filled it were efficiently photographed. Carefully replacing the files the assassin removed the wad of cash and the four gold watches that sat proud amongst the confidential dossiers. _

_Without breaking his stride the Winter Solider quickly vacated the office and stepped into the corridor. Glancing to his left the assassin was confronted by a startled looking maid, her eyes wide with terror as she observed his blood covered visage. Without a second's thought the pistol was leveled at her head. Squeezing the trigger the soldier didn't wait for her warm body to hit the ground, a trail of blood oozing from the wound at the centre of her forehead before he continued on his way. _

James awoke violently, sweat dripping from his body, the sheets a sodden tangled mess around him. Wrenching off the covers he stumbled towards the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before upheaving the contents of his stomach into the bowl.

A shaking arm reached out to flush the toilet and James scrabbled for the sink, hastily turning the faucet. Splashing cool water onto his face he attempted to gather his thoughts, but the tang of blood and sweat were overpowering, the smell of gunpowder and metal all consuming as he gripped the basin tightly. Finally his eyes fluttered upwards to observe his reflection in the small bathroom mirror, his skin was pallid and his eyes blood shot.

James bit back a shudder before methodically stripping off his clothes and leaving them in a pile at his feet. Turning on the shower he waited until the bathroom filled with steam before stepping under the scalding hot stream of water. Soon the scent of shower gel and shampoo had consigned the night terrors to the back of his mind. Roughly scrubbing at his already tender skin James attempted to expel all the memories of blood and death, ignoring the way his hands shook as he squeezed even more soap out of the bottle.

With the simple act of washing himself and the systematic scrubbing of his skin James was gathering some of his wits. The feel of blood dripping from his hands was fast disappearing, the dead glazed eyes of his victims banished from his consciousness.

* * *

With a self-conscious tug at her hair Victoria left her room, hastily shutting the door behind her she hooked a worn leather handbag on the crock of her elbow. Taking the stairs down to the lower levels she decided to swing by the communal kitchen.

"So… I'm just popping out." Victoria called, her body half way through the door as she looked in on Steve and James. Steaming cups of coffee placed directly in front of the two men as what smelt suspiciously like bacon sizzled on the hob. Clearly they weren't bothered about their saturated fat intake.

"You look nice…" James stuttered. His blue orbs briefly flicked towards Victoria before his hand gripped the back of his neck and his gaze slid off from the blonde, anything else in the room more interesting to look at. Rather than the girl he chose to focus on the chip in his enamel mug, picking at the flaw his eyes narrowed.

"Thanks," the blonde replied, her head nodding slowly as she rocked gently on the spot. The green dress she was wearing swinging softly about her legs, her handbag hitting her knee as she continued her awkward stationary shuffle.

James winced, he wasn't sure if he was capable of small talk. Whether it had been with HYDRA or the Soviets, James was used to talking in terms of missions and outcomes. His handlers only asking basic questions, expecting one word answers in return. There was no talk of the weather, or how about them Yankees?

Flirting with a woman was even more alien, he was fairly certain he had once been good at that sort of thing. Not that he was supposed to be flirting with Victoria. Forcing his gaze upwards James glanced towards Victoria and something familiar reared in his chest. Her blonde hair was falling in soft curls, skimming her collarbone as she stood somewhat awkwardly in the doorway. Her fingers wrapped tightly around the material of her skirt, her bare shoulders a golden brown having caught some of the July sun.

A memory was suddenly punching its way to the front of his consciousness; a brunette girl with bright red lips was leaning into him. The smoke from her cigarette engulfed him as she laughed softly into his ear, her free hand brushing softly past his knee. The stiff curls of her hair tickled his cheek as he slowly lead her by the hand, the music pounding in his ears as he pulled her flush against him. Another joke was whispered into her ear that resulted in more laughter, just as he expertly captured her red lips with his own.

James' thumb ran over the chip in his mug and the sudden sensation across his skin brought him tumbling back to the present.

"I'm going to brunch with my brother…." Victoria began, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. For some reason the compliment had sent her reeling, causing her to regress to her 14 year old self. "You two are both more than welcome to join us." The blonde finished, the words falling from her mouth before she could stop herself.

"Oh." Steve started, his eyes wide in shock. "You don't have to do that…"

"Please, it would be my pleasure." Victoria smiled back, unsure where the urge to force herself into what could possibly be the worst social situation of her life was coming from.

"I don't know…" James's voice was soft, but his eyes managed to capture Victoria's.

"No, you're totally right." Victoria gave him a hesitant smile. "If you're not up for a field trip or whatever…"

"Baby steps," James affirmed, his head nodding slowly. His blue eyes locked with Victoria's and a current passed between them. As if stung, the blonde stumbled backwards giving the two men a distracted smile before ducking out of the room.

* * *

What was supposed to have been brunch ended up turning into one long lazy day spent with Mike and Grace, Victoria only turning up at the tower past dinner. The sight of Pepper, Tony, Clint, Bruce and Steve assembled around the large granite island in the kitchen greeted her. The current occupants of Avengers Tower looking considerably unimpressed with each other.

"Godddamit Steve, you cant just let him muddle through this, you need to give him structure – professional help." Bruce whispered angrily as he removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Bruce…" Steve began, readying himself for an argument.

"He did punch a whole in the wall Steve…" Pepper muttered quietly, her hand coming up to rest delicately on Steve's arm. "A concrete wall."

Captain America sighed, "There are times when he's not all together lucid. I can manage it."

Clint rolled his eyes, "We take the arm, simple."

"Not happening buddy," Tony shook his head. "The sheer amount of movement he's granted with that thing makes me think it's wired directly to his nervous system. Even with a willing patient it would take me weeks to examine it and figure out how to extract it safely. With Barnes? Guy's not going to like me poking around his arm."

"You are not taking his arm," Steve ground out, his tone suggesting the topic closed and not to be revisited.

"Then at least let us bring in professional help," Bruce offered gently. "James is quite clearly suffering from PTSD and that doesn't even begin to scratch the surface. I think we're all smart enough to acknowledge this isn't one of those – fix my own problems – situations."

"Did you have anyone in mind?" Steve suddenly asked, his blue eyes betraying the crushing weight of the task he had taken on.

"I'll look into it," Pepper promised, her gaze reassuring as she squeezed on Steve's arm.

Victoria bit her lip, her body pressed against the thin partition wall. Hopefully Clint and Steve were too distracted to notice her presence. Toeing off her shoes she snuck past the gathered crowd, assuming their conversation regarding the ex super assassin housed upstairs in the infirmary was not for her ears.

* * *

Having checked on James in his room and only to find it empty Victoria headed towards the deck. The summer breeze hit her the second she stepped outside. Her dress sweeping upwards and leaving her legs exposed, swatting down the green fabric she moved further into the dying sunlight.

It didn't take her long for her to notice him; he sat cross-legged on the floor, his back hunched forward, arms bracing his head as his fingers gripped his hair.

"James?" Victoria called out, waiting for some sort of response before moving in closer to the man.

James shifted, a grunt of recognition issued from the back of his throat as his eyes finally landed on her trim figure. Taking that as a sign she could come closer Victoria shuffled forwards, before dropping to her knees, her hands clasped firmly in her lap.

"Pepper's perfume…." James mumbled.

"What about it?" Victoria frowned, her hands itching to reach out and touch the man sitting broken before her.

"A woman… A woman I murdered wore it. I couldn't remember where I was for a second, I didn't remember who I was… Luckily the wall took the brunt of the damage."

"Pepper?" Victoria questioned, her voice hesitant as her fingers crept towards James. Gritting her teeth the blonde stretched out her hand, tugging James' arm free she pulled his clenched fist into her lap.

"She managed to duck…." James murmured bitterly, his eyes blank as he continued to stare out at the city's skyline.

"Come inside," Victoria suggested softly. "You look exhausted."

"I didn't sleep well – night terrors." James explained matter-of-factly.

Victoria nodded slowly, her hand reaching for his left, her warm fingers starting at the cool touch of metal.

James stiffened, his eyes dropping to their entwined hands, metal fingers twisted around hers as Victoria tugged him in the direction of the door. The right side of her body was pressed against his, her warm limb wrapped around his bionic arm and no matter how hard he looked he couldn't see the tremor of disgust he expected.

"Come on…" Victoria encouraged.

Leading James gently down the stairs and to her suite of rooms Victoria cast a wary glance over her shoulder. Strangely they had yet to run into anyone. Not that they were entirely hidden, Jarvis kept a tab on all of the occupants of Avengers Tower. Tony need only ask the computer where they were and their location would be surrendered.

Pushing the door to her rooms open Victoria ushered James inside, momentarily detaching herself from the ex-assassin as she put the lock on the catch before leaving the door to swing back on its hinges. In one smooth action she had captured James' hand once more and was leading the man towards her bedroom, making sure to leave the door ajar as she sat the assassin down on her bed.

Moving softly about the room Victoria turned on the bedside lamp and pulled the blinds across the windows, effectively shutting out the world. James was still sitting motionless on the bed, his eyes following Victoria's every step with a calculating indifference.

Finally James spoke, his voice thick with emotion. "Potts lied…"

"What do you mean?" Victoria questioned hesitantly, sitting next to the assassin, her foot curling up underneath her.

"She didn't tell Stark how close she was to being hurt." James spat, his voice dripping with scorn, his eyes burning self-loathing. "How close I was to hurting her…"

Victoria's breath momentarily hitched in her throat. Pepper was another person James had come so close to killing, another person who had fallen victim to his shattered mind. It didn't matter how hard James tried, he was losing chunks of time and the personality that was beginning to emerge disappeared in an instant. The dispassionate eyes of a trained killer replaced the blue orbs filled with tumultuous waves emotions. His body no longer under his control, muscles acting on reflex, his default set to kill. How long did he have until his next break? The next time he awoke would it be to blood on his hands?

"We'll ask her to stop wearing the perfume." Victoria finally spoke.

"Victoria," James growled in exasperation, disbelief clearly etched across his features. How could she be so dismissive? What was she willing to brush under the carpet? He had come so close to hurting Pepper – he deserved the hatred and the scorn. He deserved to have the shit kicked out of him by Clint because no matter how much hurt was inflicted on him it wouldn't even begin to make up for the pain and suffering he had dealt to countless strangers. There was nothing that he could do to atone for his sins and the woman who sat opposite him still refused to see him for the piece of crap he really was.

"You have triggers James, we need to learn how to manage them." The blonde replied firmly, her voice steady. "There's no point wondering about what might have happened if Pepper hadn't moved out of the way. All you can do is apologize and hope she accepts. And then we focus on stopping it from happening again."

"Jesus Christ Victoria, I could have killed her…" James growled, his hands screwing into fists.

"But you didn't."

"Then all the others? How the fuck can you stomach being this close to me?" James yelled as he turned to face Victoria, his hands reaching out to shake her by the shoulders. Anything to try and force some sense into her head.

Victoria hissed and James instantly relaxed his grip, his arms falling to the bed, a loose cage around the woman.

"Sorry – I didn't mean… I hurt you again. Sorry…" The man mumbled, his voice dangerously close to breaking.

"You just shocked me is all," Victoria reassured. Brushing James' hair from out of his eyes she smiled. "Try going to sleep."

"Vic…" James protested just as Victoria's hands landed on his chest.

Pushing down hard Victoria forced the man to lay back, her hair tumbling into James' face as she did so. The comforting smell of her perfume enveloped him; her hot skin so close to his own caused a delicious shiver to run thought his body. Victoria's body weight pressed against him was a reassuring presence as she forced James into the pillows. His right hand skimmed her thigh and he finally let himself relax.

"Try and get some sleep, I'll be in the next room." Victoria whispered, her lips skimming past his cheek. Pressing her mouth firmly against his forehead she left.

And already the cold had begun to set in.

* * *

**A/N: **Hope this chapter was to your liking! Also I hope it doesn't feel like I'm pushing some out of place romance down your throats. Thanks again for the reviews, follows and favourites! Special thanks to those who reviewed who I can't PM back.

Anyway, as per usual I would love you all to leave your thoughts in the form of a review as feedback is so greatly appreciated :)


	10. Chapter 10

"We are still in the desert." – _Jarhead_

* * *

Victoria pitched forwards as the sound of strangled screams filled the air. Throwing off the thin blanket she had draped across her Victoria nearly tumbled off the sofa in her haste to get out of the living room. Finally finding her feet she ran towards the open doorway, stumbling into her bedroom she groped blindly at the wall. Having located the plastic switch she turned the dial and flooded the room with a warm yellow light.

"James!" Victoria shouted, as she hovered hesitantly over the man writhing on the bed.

The veins in his arm and legs were coiled like knots, as every muscle appeared to be tensed as he fought against the covers tangled around his limbs. Quiet utterances left his lips as his limbs shook, a garbled stream of Russian whispered into the pillow before another shuddering sob was ripped from his lungs as his right arm flailed dangerously. Victoria bit her lip, her eyes suddenly zoning in on the glass of water she had left on the bedside table. Quickly snatching up the receptacle she threw its contents all over James.

In an instant the man was awake, his eyes wide and unstaring as he was forcibly pulled from the foggy pit of memories his unconscious mind had dragged him.

"James," Victoria's voice cracked through the still air and James' eyes snapped towards her.

The man frowned; his blues eyes a whirling pool of half processed emotions, but the overriding sense of fear he felt was palpable. Victoria moved towards the bed, her hands reaching out to grab James. She could almost feel the tension roll off James as his body slumped around hers, his fingers knotting into the thin material of her vest top.

"Come on," Victoria grunted as she adjusted to the newfound weight distributed across her body. "Lets go to the bathroom ok?"

James nodded mutely, shuffling towards the other room as he gripped the blonde tightly.

Having reached for the light Victoria stood James next to the shower, hoping that his legs wouldn't give way beneath him as he swayed unsteadily on his feet. His blue eyes still had something of an unfocused quality but every so often he would track Victoria's movement with what could have possibly been interest disturbing his otherwise blank features.

Hastily reaching for the tap in the walk in shower Victoria winced as a spray of cold water hit her. Wiping off the offending moisture on a towel Victoria reached for James, she couldn't help but notice that his skin was clammy to the touch. With little ceremony Victoria peeled off his sodden tee shirt, biting back a gasp she tried not to stare at the jagged scar that ran perpendicular to his shoulder blade before coming round to skim the side of his left pectoral. The skin was puckered; some of the flesh closest to the fissure was thick with scar tissue. A particularly angry looking welt ran across his back, clearly the result of a knife wound. What looked like the wounds left from ballistic traumas peppered the rest of his body, the marks from other miscellaneous injuries he had collected over the years were littered across his chest.

"James are you with me?" Victoria asked, her hands hovering over his chest as she tried her best not to stare at his exposed skin, a stark reminder of his latent history.

The ex assassin gave her no response; instead he stumbled forwards, his eyes staring vacantly ahead. Gritting her teeth Victoria steadied herself against his considerable weight once more.

"Come on James, stand up for me ok?" the blonde requested as if she were addressing a particularly sullen child.

To her relief James complied, one hand braced against Victoria's shoulder as he righted himself. Shaking the rising embarrassment that was swelling in her stomach Victoria reached for the elasticated waist of his sweat pants, tugging down the offending garment she was somewhat relieved to see a pair of blue boxers. Kicking the now discarded clothing to one side Victoria tugged James towards the shower, not bothering to close the glass door behind them she sat James down on the marble ledge that ran the length of the shower.

Scalding hot water hit her shoulders and drenched her top, the fabric clinging to her body, ignoring the discomfort Victoria reached for a bottle of shower gel.

Soon the scent of bergamot and lemongrass filled the shower room, Victoria's hands passing a flannel across James' skin. Her breathing suddenly stilled as James' left hand wrapped around her wrist, glancing down she swallowed heavily. For the first time since she'd woken James from his sleep the man was actually looking at her, his cerulean orbs narrowed in quiet concentration as he observed Victoria.

James' mouth was slightly parted, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as his right hand brushed away the droplets of water that clung to Victoria's golden skin, his thumb massaging a circular pattern into the pliant flesh of her upper arm.

"You know doll, in my day you had to be married before you got into these sorts of positions with a dame. Or at least, that's what you promised her…"

A somewhat undignified snort escaped Victoria, followed by a peal of laugher as the tips of her fingers skimmed the man's jaw. James licked his mouth and Victoria could have sworn she'd never seen anything quite so lascivious.

* * *

The relative quiet of bathroom was disturbed as a large figure barreled through the great clouds of steam.

"Bucky!" Steve called.

"Here…" James answered, his hands falling from Victoria as the blonde stumbled backwards, her back cracking painfully against the chrome taps. Hissing in pain Victoria quickly turned off the water.

"Buck…" Steve petered off, his eyes widening as he took in James' state of undress and Victoria was suddenly painfully aware of her current lack of clothes. The ridiculously small shorts she favored for sleeping stuck to her thighs, the thin fabric of her vest top having taken on a sheer quality clung to her skin. Thank God she'd kept on her bra was all she could think as her eyes drifted from Steve to James.

"Cap…" Victoria bit her lip, forcing down the urge to refer to the war hero by his superhero alter ego. "Steve. James was…"

"I had a nightmare," James suddenly interjected. "I don't think I was particularly lucid and Victoria dragged me in here."

"I didn't drag you…" Victoria muttered under her breath. "Making it out like I'm forcing you to…"

James barked out a laugh, much to the surprise of Steve who sent a sideways glance towards his friend. "Sorry doll, I didn't mean to suggest you were trying anything untoward."

Victoria bit back a retort, rubbing her arms in an attempt to rid her of the goose bumps that had begun to form across her skin.

"Here," Steve mumbled, his eyes firmly stuck to the floor as he passed Victoria a towel.

"Cheers." Victoria muttered her thanks before slipping past the super soldier.

Drying off her limbs Victoria wrapped the towel around her body before wriggling out of her shorts and underwear, the wet garments dropping to the floor with a slick thud. Avoiding looking at the two men still stood in the shower Victoria negotiated with her top and bra and was soon standing naked beneath the towel. Scooping up her clothes she dropped them in the bathtub, she would deal with them later. For now she needed to put on some warm dry clothes and ignore the fact that she felt like she was starring in the beginning of a bad porno movie. Pushing down the errant thought Victoria went into her bedroom, doing her best to ignore James' lingering gaze on her back.

* * *

Steve had similarly offered James a towel and the ex assassin had obliged his friend by shucking off his boxers and slinging the white fabric around his waist.

"There should be some clothes in here somewhere." Steve muttered to himself more than anything as he moved towards the large wooden cupboards that lined one wall of the bathroom. Finally Steve's search proved fruitful, a plain white tee shirt and what looked to be pajama bottoms were withdrawn from the second cupboard he checked.

"There is a lady present Bucky."

Rolling his eyes James took the proffered offerings and quickly pulled on the garments.

"I don't think broads care all too much about male nudity nowadays Steve. You been to Times Square recently? Some guy called Calvin Klein ain't too afraid to show off his boxer shorts."

Steve shook his head in his exasperation, "That's not the point Bucky."

James huffed, "I got dressed didn't I?"

"Victoria, are you uh… decent?" Steve called through the now closed door to the blonde's bedroom. Despite it all Steve couldn't help the red tinge that crept into his cheeks.

"I'm fine!" Victoria yelled back, keeping her voice as singsong as possible.

"Jesus Steve, you are aware you look like a Greek god personified, and you still have issues with dames?"

"Quit raggin' on me." Steve growled under his breath, on reflex his fist shooting out to tap James on the arm.

Stumbling ever so slightly James sent Captain America a sidelong glance.

"Punk."

The familiar word was muttered with such carelessness Steve had to check himself. He remained silent, unwilling to let the balloon of hope expand in his chest. He had stormed into Victoria's bathroom after Jarvis had alerted him to James' distress. He may now be interacting with what was the closest thing to Bucky since his reunion with his friend but there was no denying that moments earlier James had been in the throes of a vicious night terror.

Every so often Steven would wake dripping, the nightmare only just chased away by his early morning coffee and jog. Memories of the war, the attack on New York and most recently his fevered imaginings of what might have happened to Bucky rendered some of his nights restless. But Bucky had spent seventy years under the control of HYDRA and the Soviets – with no opportunity for downtime and no chance given to process what he'd been made to do, James was undoubtedly in a worse position than he was.

And there was no denying that whatever Bucky had experienced had left deep scars on his psyche, no matter how _present _his friend was now, didn't alter the fact that he was prone to blackouts. The sheer trauma his mind had been put through and the routine memory scrubbings had left a mish mash of personalities behind. Bucky Barnes was buried somewhere beneath the years of programming but Steve was only just beginning to realize the amount of work and time it would take for that man to emerge. And as to whether he would ever regain what he'd lost completely remained to be seen.

"Steve, I…" James began, his eyes fixed firmly to the floor as he inched forwards. "Thank you for helping me. I tried to kill you on more than one occasion…." James' breath hitched in his throat, a pained look flitting across his features betraying his discomfort at voicing his opinion. "You could have kicked me to the curb but you didn't."

"Remember…" Steve began, his gaze hard as he span his friend round to face him.

"The end of the line… I know." James nodded mutely, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

"So no thanks necessary. Besides, how many times did you look after me when I was sick?"

"I don't remember…" James replied softly as a sudden melancholy filled him, the life that he had lived with Steve infuriatingly just out of his grasp.

Finally the two men walked into the living room, Victoria sat somewhat nervously on the edge of the sofa, her nails scratching at the leather upholstery.

"Sorry about barging in on you." Steve was first to speak, his eyes wide with heart felt sincerity.

"Don't worry about it," Victoria shrugged carelessly. "Nothing untoward was happening."

"To my eternal shame," James teased as he slumped onto the sofa next to her. The closest thing to a grin James could manage was playing on the man's lips as his hand carelessly skimmed Victoria's leg.

"I told Banner that James was using my room, I probably should have cleared it with you as well." Victoria addressed Steve, doing her best to ignore the presence of the man next to her.

"I asked Jarvis to keep me informed," Steve scratched the back of his neck.

Glancing at the clock Victoria sighed, "It's just gone 5 o'clock. There's no point going back to bed – anyone up for breakfast?"

"You cookin' sweetheart?" James inquired, this time there was an unmistakable waggle about his eyebrows.

"You can at least make eggs can't you Barnes?" Victoria questioned as she hoisted herself to her feet, her eyebrow raised in challenge.

"I might be little rusty."

"We'll manage – together." Steve interjected diplomatically.

* * *

The three figures assembled in the communal kitchen waited with baited breath, the sizzle of butter as cool eggs ran into the pan assailed their ears.

"Stir it." Steve insisted. His keen eyes narrowed at the pan as if it were a nuclear bomb that only he could disarm, thus saving all of uptown Manhattan.

"No," James shook his head swatting at Steve with a free hand. "You need to let them cook a little bit first.

Victoria covered her mouth with her hand in an effort to hide her smile, busying herself with the toast she glanced over at the two men.

"I didn't realise making eggs had to be conducted like a military operation." Victoria called out sardonically, her brown eyes dancing with humour.

"It don't," James shook his head in disgust. "Steve here's just a back seat driver."

Wooden spoon in hand James deftly stirred the eggs; a hiss of relief from Steve accompanied the ex assassin's actions.

"Keep stirring – they'll stick."

"They won't stick." James rolled his eyes. "Goddammit Steve, quit hoverin' would you?"

"Fine." Steve bit back as he began to pull plates from off the rack. "I'll lay the table."

"Thanks Steve." Victoria beamed just as she placed a cafetiere on the table, the coffee granules swirling in the hot water.

"As promised, perfectly cooked eggs." James crowed as he sailed past Steve, placing a pile of steaming eggs on each plate. Grabbing the bacon he completed a second circuit of the table, grilled mushrooms and tomatoes followed. Putting the now full toast rack on the table Victoria sat down.

"Anyone for coffee?" Steve questioned, as he plunged the cafetiere. Noticing the identical looks Victoria and James sent him the super soldier muttered under his breath. "Right, of course. Stupid question."

"Whatever that is, it smells good."

Victoria's head jerked upwards at the stranger's voice. Standing at the threshold to the kitchen stood a red head. A small travel bag slung over her shoulder as she surveyed the scene.

"Natasha," Steve smiled. "Didn't expect you."

"Thought I'd drop by."

James had remained curiously silent during the exchange. It was only when Victoria dragged her eyes back to Barnes that she noticed he had got to his feet, his right hand still clutching the table knife he had been eating with. Natasha's eyes fluttered towards James, a tremor of recognition flitting across her features before it was carefully snatched away and hidden behind a beautiful impenetrable mask.

"Romanova."

"Soldat."

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry this chapter was a bit filler-y and possibly had what was verging dangerously close to fluff. I just need to break it up a little bit as more drama/angst is to come.

Thanks again for the reviews (especially to those who I couldn't PM back and say as much), favourites and follows.

As always please leave a review as your thoughts are always wanted!

Hope you enjoyed this latest offering.


	11. Chapter 11

"I'm ruined beyond repair, is what I fear...And if so, in time we'd both be wretched and bitter."

"I know people can be mended. Not all, and some more immediately than others. But some can be. I don't see why not you."

"Why not me?"

- Charles Frazier, _Cold Mountain_

* * *

The knife flew from his hand, slicing through the air with a deadly accuracy. Natasha ditched her bag before diving backwards into a handspring, her limbs taught as her body completed a full revolution, the knife clattering uselessly to the floor. Having regained her footing the spy exploded forwards, leaping onto the counter top she raced forwards, dropping down as another piece of cutlery was launched at her. Sliding off the edge of the counter her legs wrapped around the Winter Soldier's torso as she bore him to the ground before ploughing her fist into the assassin's jaw.

Meanwhile Steve had barrelled into Victoria, shielding the blonde with his body he glanced back towards Natasha and James, the red head seemingly holding the upper hand.

"YA ne to kto vy dumayete chto ya." Natasha ground out, her thighs squeezing harder, her knee braced against the Winter Soldier's mechanical arm as she planted her full weight against the man trapped beneath her.

"Zapadnaya shlyukha?"

"YA tebe ne vrag." Natasha growled, her hand reaching behind her back as she pulled out her concealed weapon. Turning off the safety she aimed the handgun at the assassin's head. Easing herself up slowly she kept her weapon trained on James as she took several steps backwards.

"What is your name?" The red head questioned, switching back to English her eyes narrowed in caution with her head cocked to one side as she surveyed the man in front of her.

The simple question seemed to stump him momentarily before a twisted snarl corrupted his features, a litany of profanities pouring from his lips like a vitriolic benediction.

"What is your name?" Natasha repeated, her voice harsh. "You're not in Russia anymore. You're not with HYRDA. Now tell me, what is your name?"

The assassin stumbled, his eyes screwing shut as the desperate urge to sling vile Russian curses in her direction eased. Clenching his fist he glanced towards Natasha's left and saw two faces filled with concern as the man did his best to shield the blonde woman.

"Your name." Natasha demanded, her voice unforgiving and the assassin's attention was back solely on the red head.

"Bucky…." The Winter Solider shuddered, before straightening himself out and addressing Natasha once more. "James Buchanan Barnes, born March 10th 1917."

Natasha sharply exhaled; a look of relief flooded her eyes before she regained control of her disloyal emotions, the impassive mask she wore so well firmly reinstated.

"Can I put the gun away?" Natasha questioned wryly, holding both hands up in surrender, her index finger uncoiling from around the trigger.

"Go ahead…" James muttered, slumping against the granite work surface as he clutched his brow.

Untangling herself from Steve's grip Victoria quickly snatched up a tumbler and filled it with water, passing the glass towards Bucky her knuckles brushed his arm.

"Thanks…" the man muttered shakily as he took a sip of water.

"Better?" Victoria asked doing her best to keep her voice level.

"A1." James replied softly, his blue eyes passing warmly over Victoria before he downed the rest of the water. "Sorry about that…" The man continued as he glanced towards Natasha.

"You've done worse to me before." Natasha replied curtly just as Steve and Victoria took a collective wince.

Bucky swallowed hard, "I…"

"At least you didn't have an assault riffle with you this time." Natasha commented mildly as she buttered herself a slice of cold toast.

"The world's most feared assassin reduced to using cutlery." James laughed somewhat awkwardly. "Seriously, Natalia…"

Victoria only just caught the slight stiffening of Romanoff's shoulders as she took a bite of toast.

"Natasha. It's Natasha now," the red head answered firmly, her green eyes suddenly wary once more.

"Right, of course…. Sorry." James muttered, his eyes dropping to the floor, his hand unwittingly nudging against Victoria's. On reflex the blonde's fingers wrapped around Bucky's before she gave his hand a small squeeze, hoping it would go someway to reassure him.

"So." Steve started, his eyes flitting warily between Bucky and Natasha.

"I'm going to settle in," Natasha said abruptly as she grabbed her previously discarded bag. "Nice to meet you Victoria." The red head called out to the blonde, her lips curling up ever so slightly giving no sign as to how she knew who Victoria was before she slinked out of the room, leaving only the traces of her enigmatic smile behind.

The trio stood in the kitchen, breakfast seemingly put on hold as Victoria bent down to pick up the shattered remnants of porcelain, congealed egg sticking to the shards of plate. Dumping the broken crockery into the sink Victoria continued her task, resolutely ignoring the burning desire to ask Steve, and James for that matter, just who the red head was.

"Her name is Natasha Romanoff." Steve suddenly voiced, as if he was acutely aware of the thoughts that were currently tumbling through Victoria's head.

"Oh." Victoria nodded mutely as she began rummaging in the cupboards for a dustpan and brush.

Noticing what she was doing the super soldier took the plastic brush from out of her hands. "Here, let me…" he muttered quickly before clearing his throat and elaborating further "She's ex KGB. Used to work for SHIELD. An Avenger."

"Ex KGB…" Victoria mused softly, finding some antibacterial spray and wiping down the counter tops, Bucky for his part was picking bits of egg out of his hair. "I'm pretty sure the KGB was dissolved in the early 90s…"

"So?" Steve asked, as he wrapped the shards of broken china in plastic bags and placed them in the bin.

Victoria sighed, her eyes flicking towards James who had stacked the remaining bits of crockery by the sink. To start pointing fingers at a woman she hardly knew and someone Steve clearly held in high regard perhaps wasn't the wisest course of action to take.

Screw it – she thought.

"She's what, early 30s at the most?"

Steve frowned.

"For some reason, I don't think the KGB were employing 10 year olds." Victoria muttered softly. "None of you thought to ask the question before?"

"It's rude to ask a lady her age." Steve replied, his tone suggesting it was half way between a question and a statement.

"She isn't in her 30s." James suddenly spoke up, his voice heavy as he avoided making eye contact with Steve.

"What do you mean?" Steve queried, his eyes trained towards his friend.

"When I was with the Soviets, I was taken out of the freezer when they needed me for a mission. But there were occasions when they got me to train new recruits…"

"The Red Room?" Victoria asked, seeking clarification.

James nodded, "Yes. Don't ask me what year it was, but it was before HYDRA took custody – so before the dissolution of the USSR. She was at least 15 when she began training with me."

"She's been lying." Steve suddenly voiced, his mouth a hard line.

"Does that surprise you Steve?" Bucky questioned fiercely. "Look, I'm sure she had her reasons. My memories are hazy at best so all I can tell you is that I remember a young girl called Natalia Alianovna Romanova, I – the Winter Soldier – trained her for a while…"

"That's all you remember about her?" Steve prodded, his eyes thoughtful.

Bucky frowned, his hands gripping the stone counter top as he struggled to find the right words. "I think I met her once after the Red Room and before DC."

"What happened?" Victoria enquired, her voice calm and forgiving.

"I fired a bullet straight through her." James whispered softly, his eyes downcast as the overwhelming urge to vomit surged through his body.

Victoria remained silent, her hand reaching out to squeeze Bucky's forearm.

"All HYDRA had to do was implant a suggestion she was disloyal to Mother Russia and she was suddenly the enemy," the ex assassin continued, his voice full of empty humour. "Seeing her face must have triggered something – triggered my programming."

James' voice was bitter, his eyes a raging sea of unchecked emotions. It was with startling ease that he slipped back into the Winter Soldier's mentality, the imperative to kill or be killed would always lurk at the back of his mind. Constantly scratching as he fought to reassert his identity, as he struggled to make something of himself in a strange world so utterly alien yet startlingly familiar. The constant to-ing and fro-ing between the heartless killer the Soviets had so easily manufactured and the scrappy kid from Brooklyn raged within his chest, ripping his heart into a chaos of jagged muscle and ribbons of blood. As to who would win? It seemed that his life was balancing on a knife-edge. The number of times his metaphorical switch had been flipped due to the most innocuous of things already seemed too high. The price he had to pay too great for whenever he slipped into on of his messy transgressions.

Glancing towards Victoria, he studied her reaction; as usual he failed to see any traces of pity or disgust. The familiar calm that James had grown accustomed to when he was in Victoria's presence swelled in his chest as she sent a small, private smile in his direction. Clint's words rang in his head, was he being selfish? It didn't take much internal soul searching to come to the conclusion that yes – he was. There was nothing that the woman was gaining from their relationship, the whole thing was ridiculously one sided and not for the first time James wondered why she would want to help a broken reprobate such as himself. What did she see worth saving when all that he was, was irredeemable.

"You better clean up," Steve suddenly voiced pulling James from out of his reverie. "Pepper and Dr. Banner have got some options for you about external help…"

"You mean a shrink?" Bucky asked shrewdly.

"We're not necessarily equipped to help you in all the ways you need…." Steve cleared his throat. "Professional help can only make things easier, right?"

"Right," the brunette nodded his acquiescence, his voice somewhat hoarse. "Thanks for breakfast doll."

"You did most of it," Victoria smiled gently, her brown eyes suddenly heavy.

"You'll soon learn that I am a man of many talents," James grinned, earning a spark to flair in Victoria's eyes.

"C'mon Buck." Steve muttered and despite the situation the Captain couldn't help the smile that tugged on his lips. "Thanks for breakfast Victoria."

The blonde shrugged casually, "Don't mention it."

* * *

Having finished clearing the mess in the kitchen, the knife James had lobbed at Natasha the last thing to go in the dishwasher Victoria headed towards her room. A shower and change of clothes would go someway to shake her out of the sudden wave of melancholy that had hit her. Observing James dip back into the Winter Soldier's personality as a third party was utterly terrifying. When he had attempted to choke her Victoria had been more preoccupied with prolonging her life, the sheer panic at not being able to breath taking over. But seeing the man who only seconds before had been joking with her about scrambling eggs lose any semblance of a personality as he became a blank void, intent only on killing, was entirely unnerving.

Pushing the door to her rooms open Victoria stumbled over the threshold, drifting into the living room she turned on the news, the volume down low as she kicked off her shoes.

"You're lucky I didn't want to kill you." A somewhat amused voice sounded out from the corner of the living room.

"Jesus Chris!" Victoria yelled, jumping round to face the intruder.

"Didn't they teach you to check a room before you go in it?"

"I didn't think I needed to." Victoria bit back, expelling a stream of air through her nose as she glared at Clint. "I'm staying with 'Earth's Mightiest Heroes' remember?"

"You can never be too careful." Barton shrugged carelessly before leveling what could only be called a glare at the blonde. "You read the file?"

"Yes."

"And you saw the display in the kitchen?"

"Yes."

"And you're still here."

"Yes." Victoria bit back, her voice hard. "I'd never abandon someone because I'm scared."

"You sure you're not just stupid?" Clint shot back, an annoying smirk curling at the corners of his mouth.

"What do you want me to say? One look at his baby blues and impressive pectoral muscles and I'm suddenly blind to the fact that he's a clear and present danger? That I am stupid, that I'm reckless? I'm not going into this situation without being aware of the facts – you made sure of that. So whatever decisions I make, I make as a competent adult. Everyone deserves someone to believe in them."

"And you believe in Barnes?" Barton questioned, walking towards Victoria – examining her.

"Yes dammit. I don't know why and for the life of me I don't know why you seem to be so insistent on convincing me that I shouldn't. Have a little faith Barton because the whole damn world sees you as a hero and you owe them that much."

"They shouldn't…" Clint began, frowning in consternation.

"They should – after New York. And I'm sure after however many other covert missions you've been a part of." Victoria argued emphatically, squaring her shoulders as she attempted to subvert yet another complex.

Victoria's phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling out the contraption she flipped to her messages.

"Dammit."

"Everything alright?" Clint asked, an unfamiliar sense of concern punctuating his words.

"Yeah, fine." Victoria muttered distractedly. "Work."

"Well, you're a better person than most Ms. Miller. I'll leave you alone now." The Avenger gave the blonde a small nod before backing out of the room.

"Yeah, go and creep around someone else's bedroom."

"Gotta find a way of keeping sharp somehow," Clint called back and Victoria could almost hear the smile in his voice.

* * *

Already the sun was setting over the horizon and Victoria was stuffing her clothes into her hold-all. Growling in frustration she threw a pair of jeans on the bed, somehow she couldn't manage to make everything fit, despite seemingly having the same amount of clothes as she'd arrived with. Shuffling into the living room she flung herself onto the sofa, the leather squeaking beneath her hot skin. Reaching for the remote control she began rapidly flicking through the channels. Sitting mindlessly in front of the television as she only half absorbed the latest situation comedy was an infinitely more appealing activity than packing.

Rolling onto her side Victoria turned up the volume, admiring the chiseled jaw of the photogenic lead just as he delivered a joke a little bit too on the nose before sending a startlingly white smile down lens, a knowing wink towards the audience at home followed. A sharp rap at the door jolted her from the respite she had just managed to find.

Sliding onto her feet and answering the door Victoria revealed James, a gentle curve of the lips gracing his features as he leant against the door jam.

"C'mon. You're gonna break me out – tomorrow I start my comprehensive program of physical and emotional rehabilitation. My last night as a free man."

"I'm not going to become an accessory to you breaking out of the building Barnes." Victoria replied sardonically as she pushed her mussed hair from out of her eyes.

"Not the building," James huffed. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I must have misplaced it," the blonde muttered dryly, nevertheless she let Bucky take her by the hand and towards the elevator.

It was no surprise when James pulled her towards the roof terrace, another clear night had set over New York and the compulsion to be outside was proving too much for Bucky Barnes.

"Hey Jarvis?"

"Yes Sergeant Barnes."

"There are speakers outside right?"

"Yes Sergeant."

"Could you play Stardust by Artie Shaw?"

"Of course sir."

Entwining Victoria's fingers with his James lead her out onto the decking, the soft melody already filling the outdoor area, the gentle rise and fall of the clarinet hauntingly bittersweet in the warm night air. Softly placing Victoria's right hand on his left shoulder, his right arm snaking around her waist just as their spare hands clasped together James moved them further out, the cool breeze tickling Victoria's skin.

"I'm pretty sure I used to be good at this." James muttered softly, slowly pulling the blonde against him as he led her in a simple dance.

"James, I have to go back to DC tomorrow…" Victoria licked her lips as she volunteered the piece of information. "Work stuff's come up. I can't exactly say no."

For a moment James remained silent, still swaying them in time with the music, his grip on her tightening slightly as he rested his chin on the top of her head.

"You were never gonna be here for ever were you?" His voice was hoarse, clearing his throat James continued. "You ain't gonna make this a good bye now are you?"

"So long?" Victoria whispered as she leant backwards, her brown eyes meeting his blue.

Bucky smiled, a beautiful crooked smile that met his eyes and lit them up with such heart breaking tenderness that Victoria wasn't quite sure how to breathe. The weight of their shared experience was suddenly crashing down on her, the lungs in her chest expanding and contracting all at once as she attempted to gather her bearings. The clarinet reached a swelling crescendo and Bucky still continued to move them, their eyes fixed one each other with such searing intensity Victoria wasn't sure if her heart had stopped beating altogether.

She didn't know what it was, maybe it was the music, maybe it was the dark hunger that suddenly flickered in James' eyes but as if compelled Victoria lifted up her arm. Placing her hand against James' jaw she muttered a sigh of contentment at the contact, he hadn't shaved and the pads of her fingers relished the feel of stubble beneath them. Skimming a gentle pattern across his cheek Victoria forced out a slow breath, she could feel his arm tight around her.

Tracing their way down Bucky's neck Victoria's fingers eventually found their way to his collar, wrapping the fabric firmly around her digits Victoria pulled. James leaned towards her with very little resistance and in an instant their mouths met. And with the sudden jolt of contact Victoria's heart kicked against her chest, pounding against her ribcage as she felt both his arms encircle her, lifting her off the ground and pulling her closer towards him. James' lips were soft and pliant beneath hers but their kiss was chaste, a brief moment of such bright intensity and suddenly it was gone.

Falling back to earth with a slight jolt Victoria let her fingers loosen their grip on the man in front of her. Shivering ever so slightly she couldn't help but notice the lack of warmth now she no longer had James pressed against her. Bereft of the man's touch Victoria stumbled backwards, easily catching her James smiled an open smile.

"Wanted something to remember me by doll?"

"Something like that."

* * *

**A/N: **First off the translation for the bit of Russian at the beginning:

"I am not who you think I am."

"A Western whore?"

"I'm not your enemy."

I was debating whether I should write it in Cyrillic or phonetically, and when I say write, I mean copy and paste from Google translate.

Couple of things, I think there is a conflict over Bucky's date of birth, at least according to the MCU wiki. Another issue over births, it's stated Natasha is ex-KGB, in CA:TWS her age is 'confirmed' as being 29. The KGB was dissolved in '91. This makes next to no sense to me, unless Natasha lied about her age in her 'official' records or the KGB in the MCU continued as an actual thing after the collapse of the USSR.

There will, I think, be a bit of action (maybe, depending on how well I write it) in the coming few chapters.

That aside I hope you enjoyed the chapter and as always would love to hear what you think in the form of a review.


	12. Chapter 12

"Danger, like a third man, was standing in the room."

― Ian Fleming, _From Russia With Love_

* * *

"How does that make you feel?"

James blanched. His arms folding across his chest as he gazed disbelievingly across at the therapist.

"How does it make me feel? What do you think?" James said blankly, his eyes hooded.

"I'm interested in what you think James – in what you feel. We're not here to discuss my opinions." Dr Richards looked at James from over his glasses, his gaze softening momentarily. "Therapy is about a patient coming to terms with their issues. And to do that you need to voice what you feel and think."

"Guilt." James muttered thickly, his voice on the verge of breaking as his arms shifted so he could grip the seat of his chair.

"Would you care to elaborate on that?"

James bit back a growl, resisting the urge to lob something at the man opposite him, nothing to cause any permanent damage, just enough to get him out of the session.

"I looked it up you know, the definition of guilt. 'The fact of having committed a specified or implied offence or crime: it's the duty of the prosecution to prove the prisoner's guilt. Or two – a feeling of having committed wrong or failed in an obligation.'" James rattled off the meaning, his voice shuddering as he tried to keep his anger in check. The restless anger that always seemed to boil under the surface.

"Which one applies to you?"

James snorted, a small humourless smirk tugging at his mouth before it was quickly snatched away, Barnes' blue eyes empty wells.

"Both."

* * *

Steve paced nervously in the living room, the large panoramic views lost on him. Bucky was currently sitting through his first therapy session. The doctors had laid it out for him, a combination of hypnotherapy, psychotherapy and drugs. They were confident they could achieve results. Steve had called Sam, the reassuring voice of his friend going someway to assuage his fears. James had gone along willingly enough; the imperative to return to some semblance of the man Steve had once known enough of a motivation. Something tightened in Steve's gut. He should have tried harder. Should have reached further. He should have never let Bucky fall. _But then he wouldn't be with you now. _A snide voice whispered the most treacherous of thoughts and Steve clenched in his fist. His slight discomfort at having lost all the people from his life before the War was nothing compared to the torture and pain Bucky had been forced through. He wasn't allowed to be selfish, not now – not ever.

"He'll be ok you know."

"Yeah…" Steve muttered somewhat noncommittally. Turning round he sent Natasha a cool stare as he folded his arms across his chest. "So?"

The red head bit back a wince; it was strange seeing a look Steve had clearly taken from her arsenal deployed against her. He may have stolen a mask from the Black Window but the stance was all Captain America. Decency seemed to pour off him in droves, and not for the first time Agent Romanoff felt blinded by the light he carried around with him.

She had spent her life in shadow, dealing in subterfuge and blood. There was nothing covert or _dirty _about Captain America and not for the first time Natasha was grateful that they kept her around. Steve couldn't ever muddy his reputation the way she did. Steve was about highlighting the good in the world, showing everyone that they could strive for something better – brighter. She was about the dark, the grimy, shameful secret acts that weren't in the press release. She was necessary to the mission but she would never take a curtain call.

Suddenly realising she had been silent for too long Natasha looked up at Steve, doing her best to inject as much feeling as could into her expression. "He told you about training me in the Red Room didn't he?"

Steve nodded.

"He trained me. The Winter Soldier was one of our best instructors."

"You mean Bucky…."

"No," Natasha shook her head violently. "He had no name, only a designation. They saw him as a tool – their weapon. He was merely the Winter Soldier to them and to me as well, until I saw flickers of a man behind the soldier. I loved him after a fashion I suppose. He was the man that provided me with the skills I needed to survive and I will always be grateful because of that."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Steve asked, his voice wavering and the mask slipping.

"Because I didn't know who he really was. And I wasn't ready for you to see me in that light." Natasha breathed slowly, her green eyes turning towards the man in front of her.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm good at what I do for a reason, and I know that you appreciate my skills in the field but I'm not wrong in thinking that you don't question where my training comes from do you?

"Well it was bloody and brutal – the Winter Soldier was part of that past. The Red Room broke and remade me so many times, they made me so that slipping my skin – becoming someone else – was easier than breathing. I come from a dark place Steve and I am so old, and unlike you I have lived through those years. I wasn't ready to show you that…"

"How old?" Steve questioned before he could stop himself.

"I was born in 1928."

Steve swallowed, "Do the others know?"

"Fury and Clint." Natasha shrugged. "I know it's hard to believe, but try and trust me when I say I did it to try and protect you." The red head bit her lip.

"Protect me? Natasha I don't need you to mollycoddle me."

"I wasn't trying to baby you. I was trying to give you a chance to maintain that goodness of yours."

"So you lied?"

"A lie of omission Steve. There is a difference." A small wry smile danced across Natasha's lips for a moment before she mirrored Steve's solemn gaze.

"Natasha. It's not…"

The red head cut him off, her voice firm. "And that's why you're Captain America Steve and I'm the spy. I can muddy the waters."

Giving Steve one last smile Natasha walked slowly from the room, her shoulders hunched forward. For a moment she let the world in and they could see her for who she really was – a silver tongued liar in a gilded mask.

* * *

"Black coffee and Nicorette."

"Thanks Jacobs." Victoria smiled into her coffee cup as she took a sip, pocketing the gum for later.

"How was New York?"

"Good." Victoria nodded, her eyes fixed firmly to the gravel path in front of them. It wasn't unusual for her and Jacobs to take the scenic route when leaving the office, the beautiful expanse of park going someway to distract Victoria and giving her time to catch up with her friend.

"Staying with your brother's girlfriend's family right?" Jacobs clarified as he took a swig of his own coffee. Sighing in content he glanced over to his partner.

"Yeah…. Some other people too." Victoria did her level best to keep her voice steady, but she couldn't stop the slight pink hue that crept into her cheeks.

"Other people?" Jacobs smirked. "Please don't tell me the circle of people you socialise with has expanded beyond your brother and me?"

Victoria rolled her eyes, "Just some guy."

"Some guy? Damn Miller. I didn't think you had it in you."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Victoria shot back good-humouredly.

"Nothing, just…"

The words died on Jacobs' lips.

A red stain was spreading across his shirt. Jacobs crumpled, falling to his knees the coffee cup tumbling from his limp hand.

The blood continued to bloom across his chest, his eyes wide as unshed tears pooled at the corners of his grey orbs. Victoria dropped to the floor, scrabbling her way towards her friend.

"Leo," Victoria whispered, her hand reaching out to his chest, her fingers skimming the sodden fabric of his shirt as a sob was ripped from her throat. Wrenching the scarf from her neck she attempted to stem the blood flow. But her actions were cut short, the heavy thud of gunfire sounded as a bullet zipped past her. Diving to one side before scrambling down some nearby stairs Victoria grunted in pain. The slug had skimmed past her arm. A flesh wound – she could manage.

Glancing back up towards Leo she gave a strangled sob, her partner's arm was outstretched, his fingers curling outwards as he reached for her. Clawing her way forwards Victoria threw a glance over her shoulder, already she could see curious onlookers moving towards her.

"Call 911." Victoria screamed out hoarsely to anyone that had the presence of mind to listen to her.

Throwing herself forwards Victoria reapplied pressure to the wound in Leo's chest, doing her best to keep the blood loss under control.

"Leo, you stay with me." Victoria all but demanded as she gazed down at her partner, tears pouring freely down her cheeks.

"Promise me you wont go." Leo choked out, his eyes glassy as his raised his arm to nudge Victoria with a bloody hand.

"I'll be right here until the paramedics come." Victoria nodded, her smile tight as the cream scarf turned a brilliant scarlet.

Leo managed a small smile before he fell into unconsciousness.

* * *

Victoria sat numbly in the back of the ambulance, a blanket draped over her shoulders. Glancing down at her hands Victoria could see the dried blood smeared across her fingers and caked under her nails. Rubbing her hand against her trousers she attempted to shift the blood stain, to wipe away any traces of her dying partner. The action proved futile and she merely continued to stare, her hands beginning to shake. The paramedics had dealt with the injury on her arm, as she had suspected it was merely a flesh wound. She was stitched and bandaged on the scene before being handed off to the boys in blue. The police officer taking her statement was wearing just the right amount of concern on his features as he scribbled down notes. Victoria's gaze slid across his face, they had taken Jacobs away, the sirens filling the air as they carted him off to hospital. She knew they had informed Leo's mother, she'd wanted to be the one to do it but at the thought of speaking to the older woman Victoria had broken down. Tears streaking her makeup as unchecked sobs wracked her body.

"Ma'am?"

Victoria was jolted back to the present and attempted to focus on the two men that now stood in front of her.

The man who had just spoken tried again. "Ma'am. My name is Special Agent Hendricks, I'd appreciate it if you could drop by the office tomorrow evening, I'd just like to ask you a few questions as it may help a case I'm working on."

Victoria stared blankly at the man just as he flashed her a badge, barely checking his credentials she pulled the blanket further around her. Taking the card Hendricks now offered her the blonde swayed slowly on the spot.

"Sure. What times good for you?" Victoria mumbled, the card the man had just presented her with held loosely between her middle and index fingers.

"7?"

Victoria nodded mutely, hoping the man would leave her alone. To her relief she was offered a polite nod and Special Agent Hendricks turned smartly, leaving her in the capable hands of the police office that had been dealing with her earlier.

* * *

The rest of the evening and the following morning past in a relative haze as Victoria went through the motions of living. Food was consumed and she attempted to sleep. It was with trepidation that Victoria dragged on a pair of jeans and tee shirt before piling her hair up into a messy knot and heading for her car. Turning up the air conditioning Victoria sat in the car, the cool air hitting her skin, going some way to drive out the thoughts of Leo. The feel of his blood on her hands was still all too real; her drenched scarf a vivid picture in her mind's eye. Shaking her head Victoria turned the ignition. The drive down town was relatively painless, and Victoria soon found herself led into a small dimly lit office.

"Please sit down Ms Miller."

Falling into the offered seat Victoria clenched her hand into a fist, her nails digging into the palm of her hand she rallied her thoughts.

"Did your friend…"

Victoria cut Hendricks off, "He didn't make it."

Hendricks's nodded, before a wide smile broke out across his face "Good. You'll see we mean business."

Victoria lurched forward in her chair, just managing to choke out the words. "What the hell are you taking about?"

"The organization I work for didn't exactly struggle to infiltrate SHIELD, a couple of agents in the FBI? Not difficult. We just want to know the whereabouts of a certain asset – so yes, one of my associates shot Mr Jacobs."

"HYRDA?" Victoria whispered.

"Right in one Ms Miller." Hendricks winked; leaning back in his chair he sent the blonde a cool look. "I assume you understand what I'm after?"

"Why did you shoot him? To scare me?" Victoria replied, ignoring the man's previous question.

"We shot him to make a point."

"And what point's that?" Victoria bit back with far more confidence than she actually felt.

"You're alive because we need you. But the moment you have divulged all useful intelligence you will become expendable. And just so we're clear, we just need you breathing to extract the relevant information." Agent Hendricks said without any inflection in his voice, his eyes dark.

Victoria swallowed, her gaze skimming over the desk separating her from the HYDRA Agent. Without a moment's hesitation her arm shot forward, grabbing a hefty glass paperweight she smashed it against the man's hand. Grunting in pain he lurched forward, flinging himself over the desk he reached for her throat. Scrambling to one side Victoria hit the ground with a roll, back on her feet she span round only to find Hendricks immediately behind her. His fist flew into her jaw, stumbling backwards Victoria bit back a sob. Righting herself her arm shot up to block the second blow that was meant for her head.

Fighting against the urge to faint Victoria threw a punch, her bones cracking as she connected with his face, a second faster jab to his kidney followed before she brought her knee ramming into his stomach. Grunting in pain Hendricks charged, his hands snatching out to grab Victoria.

Lifting her bodily off the ground, he threw her like a rag doll. Her body collided with a filing cabinet; the cold metal handles digging into her back. Gasping for air Victoria attempted to regain her equilibrium but no sooner was she back on steadier feet Hendricks had grabbed her by the shoulders. Grinning he slammed her back repeatedly against the piece of office furniture. Her head cracked against the metal drawer, a small groan escaped Victoria's lungs as her vision began to swim. Biting down on her lip she tasted the salty tang of blood on her tongue, the sharp pain going someway to pierce through the fog that had descended across her brain.

Using the filing cabinet as a launch pad she pushed off, a barrage of punches and kicks thrown in Hendricks' direction. An uppercut to the jaw, a jab to his ribs followed by an almighty head but. Cuts opened across her knuckles, her very bones shook with the impact as she staggered forwards, Hendricks just grinned. Spitting out a mouthful of blood he threw a punch straight into Victoria's gut. Choking for breath the blonde doubled over in pain, just about remembering where she was to dodge a second glancing blow.

Barrelling forwards Victoria drove her elbow in Hendricks' side; slipping past the man and doing her best to ignore her already injured arm she threw herself at the office door. Launching herself out of the office she powered down the corridor. Both hands slammed against an old wooden door at the end of hall. Scrabbling frantically with the handle the blonde eventually revealed the stairwell.

Taking the stairs two at a time Victoria marvelled at the fact no one had been drawn to the commotion despite the hour. Which raised the ugly question, was everyone in the precinct under the employ of HYDRA? Grunting in exhaustion she arrived at the basement level, emerging in the parking lot she quickly spotted her vehicle.

Diving into her car Victoria shuddered for breath as her hands gripped the steering wheel, her life had suddenly turned into a movie staring Angelina fucking Jolie and she had absolutely no idea what she was going to do. Gunning the engine Victoria's vehicle jumped to life beneath her, tires squealing as she drove out of the car park.

The roads were mercifully empty as Victoria took a sharp left, looking for signs that would take her to the motorway; glancing in her rear view mirror she saw a black sedan tailing her, the unmistakable bloody visage of Special Agent Hendricks in the driving seat. Rummaging in her bag laying discarded on the passenger seat she withdrew her phone and quickly connected it to the dash of her car.

"Call Mike."

The blonde waited impatiently as she drove. Her attention split between navigating the road, Hendricks' car just behind her bumper and the anxiety over her brother.

"Vic? What's up?"

"Oh thank God." Victoria sighed trying he best to keep the creeping hysteria out of her voice, her gaze constantly flicking to the rear view mirror. "Stay where you are ok? Don't come..."

"Vic…."

"Oh God." Victoria muttered as she saw the oncoming traffic lights. "I'll call you back."

Pressing the button to end the conversation the blonde pulled sharply on the steering wheel. The car lurched into the next lane and Victoria tried to ignore the indignant honks thanks to her not using her indicators. The lights were beginning to change. Victoria groaned, one more traffic violation wouldn't hurt. Changing gear she pressed her foot against the accelerator. The car pitched forward. It was with a small yell of exhilaration that her car rushed past the others, the black sedan mercifully still behind her. She could hear the roar of oncoming traffic but she was finally across the junction.

Pushing the car faster Victoria tried to increase her lead. The wound in her arm had reopened. Blood trickling down her arm - warm and sticky. Already a bruise discoloured the skin across her jaw. The muscles in her arms and legs aching with a pain so deep she could feel it in her gut.

The sound of a car horn brought her crashing back to reality. Glancing over her shoulder she could see Hendricks steadily gaining on her. With a hiss of frustration Victoria made a snap decision. Pulling sharply on the wheel the car veered right. She had to lose Hendricks before she could consider getting out of DC.

The car shot down a back alley, glancing in her tail mirror she couldn't see the black sedan. A left turn and she was back on a main road, with blessedly few cars about her - she floored it. Hendricks was still nowhere to be seen, Victoria allowed herself one moment to bask in the glory of having escaped the agent.

Several hours later she sank down onto a bed in a grimy hotel room, she could feel the springs underneath as she fell back into the covers. Reaching for the rooms phone she dialled for an external number, her fingers shaking as she pressed the keys. She didn't have to wait long before the other end answered.

"Hello."

"Steve…." Victoria's voice trembled, blinking back the tears as she tried not to think about the past 24 hours.

"Victoria?" She could almost hear him frown.

"HYRDA." The blonde whispered, one lone tear sliding down her cheek as her mutinous body began to shudder. "They found me."

"Where are you?" Steve demanded down the phone, all traces of Steve Rogers gone, Captain America firmly in place.

"Interstate 95. Four Points Inn. Just south of Baltimore."

* * *

**A/N: **Hello all, I was writing bits of this whilst watching Eurovision so I apologise if my brain wasn't entirely in gear.

I hope the chapter wasn't too choppy and I hope the action-y bits read well. Sorry there wasn't all that much Bucky but there will be more of him next chapter! I also have no idea how an actual therapy session would go down, so I hope it seemed realistic despite the very short scene.

Once again thanks for the follows and favourites and especially for the reviews :) As always please leave review as I would love to know what you think (that and they're like crack).


	13. Chapter 13

'I am grateful, but... You were well away. Why come back?'

'I dreamed of you'

- _A Storm of Swords, _George RR Martin

* * *

James swayed on the spot, his vision blurring as he barely registered the rest of the words that were tumbling from Steve's lips, the words HYDRA and Victoria had been enough. A primordial yell was torn from the recesses of his chest and James' arm flew at the wall. The metal fist of his mechanical arm cleaved through plaster as flecks of paint fluttered through the atmosphere, with a sharp intake of air James attempted to control his breathing.

"Buck…" Steve began hesitantly, his hand reaching out to skim Barnes' back, the muscles taught beneath the grey tee shirt a stark reminder of how tightly wound his friend was, how he was only just past the worst of his nightmares.

"Where is she?" James seethed before his jaw tightened and teeth ground together, an ugly vein throbbing at the side of his temple.

"She gave me the name of a motel off the interstate, I'm heading there now." Steve answered, studying the man in front of him for any sign of another outburst.

"I'm coming with you." James muttered resolutely, his eyes unwavering in their gaze of determination.

"Bucky, for all we know this could be a trap – I'm not going to hand you over to HYRDRA gift wrapped." Steve replied, his voice a soft growl as he tried to convey the weight of his words in one meaningful stare. He wasn't ready to lose Bucky all over again, if that meant he would take on HYRDA single-handed – then so be it.

"It's because of me that she's in this mess. I can't let you clean it up and I can't leave her to fend for herself when she's helped me so much already." James paused, the rage that had been pouring off him earlier seemingly abated for the time being. "Besides you'll need backup."

"I can take Natasha."

James raised a wry eyebrow, "Are you forgetting who trained her?"

"I'm not," Steve sighed. "But are you ready for this?"

"It doesn't matter," James replied resolutely. "I have to find her. I have to stop them."

Realising there was nothing more he could do to sway his friend Steve sighed; stepping back he gave James an inscrutable look. Steve knew that no matter what he said there was no way he could convince Bucky not to accompany him, just as there would be no convincing him if the situation were reversed. And ultimately Steve would rather James go into the fight knowing that he had Steve's blessing. He would be doing their friendship a disservice if he thought Bucky wouldn't care either way, for each of them the other reminded him of what they had once had. For Steve it was his life before the serum, a life that turned him into the man Dr Erskine had so greatly respected. As for Bucky – Steve represented Brooklyn of old, when smiles were still easy to come by and his mind wasn't tainted by the years of brainwashing and killing.

But now there was a reckoning to be had – it was a forgone conclusion. The dog had slipped the proverbial leash and HYDRA was about to discover what would happen when the animal they had brutalised and kept caged was turned loose. HYDRA had helped create a monster and now that monster was a free agent, unpredictable, deadly and coming for them. When Steve looked towards James all he could see was hard lines and clenched fists, cold blue eyes that spoke of a vendetta. All he could see was the Winter Soldier. Steve forced down the sudden groundswell of emotions, once more HYDRA was pulling the strings, his friend reverting to the years of programming that had been drilled into his head. James was retreating into the empty shell that was the assassin's base of operations, shifting the Winter Soldier glanced towards Steve and a flicker of something passed across his face.

"Please Steve, we have to go." And finally Bucky Barnes broke free, his eyes pleading as he looked towards his friend.

Steve gave James a tight nod, "Let me grab my gear."

* * *

Victoria shuddered, crawling her way underneath the musty blankets she screwed her eyes shut. The TV was playing quietly in the background but the sound of a car door slamming was enough to send a jolt of discomfort through her body. Shedding the blankets Victoria moved towards the window, sitting on the floor, her head just peaking over the sill she pulled back one of the blind's slats. The blonde could just make out a young couple, wrapped around each other in a tangle of arms and bowed heads, leave their old Chevy and walk towards the reception. The pair were oblivious to their surroundings, nothing in their carriage struck Victoria as someone pretending to be something else. Until the next car pulled up she was safe.

Sucking in a lung full of air Victoria collapsed against the wall. She wasn't a stranger to violence, she had been in an enough brawls and fire fights to know that ordinarily her nerves would stay in check. But this was different, in helping James Barnes she had kicked the hornets nest, poked the sleeping dragon – she had stirred the beast and now one of its beady eyes was focused solely on her. The thought that a shadowy organisation that had successfully infiltrated SHIELD and had no scruples about deploying brainwashed assassins to despatch those they deemed a threat was overwhelming to say the least. They had murdered her friend to prove a point, to show what little regard they had for a man's life. Just to show her they could. Just to show her that she was only alive because they willed it.

Victoria bit the inside of her cheek; she wasn't about to become lost in another bout of hysterics. Pushing off from the floor she shuffled towards the bathroom, gingerly pulling off her top she hissed as the dried blood relinquished its grip on the thin fabric. Slowly unravelling the bandage wrapped around her arm Victoria blinked back the tears, the wound in her arm was an ugly, ragged looking thing. Digging into the plastic bag full of rudimentary medical supplies she had managed to pick up she pulled loose an alcohol wipe. Tearing open the packet with her teeth she pressed the cool damp material against the wound. Flinching she hurried through the process, oxidised blood smudging across her skin as she systemically worked at cleaning the injury. Dropping the spent wipe into the sink Victoria reached for a pad, using it to staunch the wound she quickly began to wrap the attached bandage around it.

Disposing of the old bandage and wipe Victoria glanced towards her top, bloodstains marred the once white fabric, gritting her teeth that too went into the rubbish. Standing over the sink Victoria ran the tap, splashing warm water into her face she attempted to remove the grime and smudged makeup. A shuddering breath racked her chest; gripping the cool basin Victoria pushed herself up, focusing on the task at hand rather than the overwhelming sense of helplessness that was on the verge of setting in.

Wiping away the film of steam that had settled across the mirror Victoria studied her reflection: her left eye was swollen, her jaw an ugly purple and a hairline cut lanced across her forehead. Swallowing a groan she inspected her face, pressing gently with the pads of her fingers across her cheekbones and jawline. Everything was tender to the touch, but as far as she could tell nothing was broken. Expelling a sharp stream of air through her nose Victoria moved back towards the bedroom turning off the light as she did so. Another bag was placed haphazardly on the room's only chair; reaching into it she withdrew a plain black sweater. Pulling the piece of clothing over her head she took care not to knock her wound when tugging the fabric down her arm.

Wrenching on her boots Victoria moved to head out but stopped short, loitering at the front door, her hand hovering over the door handle.

"Get it together Miller." The blonde hissed, just before her fingers wrapped around the handle and she pulled the door open.

Walking out into the night air Victoria quickly honed in on the ice machine. Glancing over her shoulder she only just noticed the janitor at the top of the corridor. Forcing herself to focus on the ice machine Victoria pushed against the lever and waited as the cubes of ice fell merrily into the awaiting cup. Turning her back on the machine, glass filled to the brim she walked back towards her room, surreptitiously eyeing the janitor. His actions were entirely too rehearsed to seem altogether natural. Victoria stiffened as the man's head lifted, his gaze meeting hers. Victoria's breath hitched in her throat as a toothy grin formed on the man's features. Victoria swallowed, her eyes flicking down to track the movement of his hand as it dipped into the rubbish bin attached to his cart, in one swift motion an assault riffle appeared in the man's arms. Victoria's eyes widened in shock as she forced her frozen legs to move, muscles screaming in protest as she launched into a flat out sprint. The man had levelled the weapon at her head, his finger hovering over the trigger guard as he toyed with his latest victim.

The HYDRA agent didn't hear the hum of metal as the shield cut through the night air towards him. Knocked clean off his feet the man barely had time to register the loss of his weapon before a metal arm shot out to grab him by the throat.

"You were looking for me?" The Winter Soldier questioned, his eyes narrowed as his head cocked to one side observing the man in his grasp with dispassionate interest.

The man merely gurgled, his eyes drifting past Steve who was currently helping Victoria to her feet and onto the car park. The current focus of the agent's attention was the two SUVs currently pulling into the lot. The Winter Soldier's jaw clenched as he noticed the new arrivals, his lip curling in disdain as he eyed the men stepping out of the vehicles.

"I don't think they sent enough." The soldier laughed, it was cold and humourless. His metal digits curled tighter around the man's neck, it would be so easy to snap the bones, crush them beneath his fingers. The man was HYRDA, part of the organisation responsible for turning him into the weapon he was today, what was one life? What was a little more blood on his hands?

The assassin blinked; he wasn't above killing but he once more had some moral compunctions about the act. Dropping his left hand from the man's neck James threw a powerful uppercut against the HYDRA agent's jaw. Grabbing the lackey by the shoulders Bucky sent him flying into a nearby pillar. The agent crumpled to the floor, blood pouring from a wound in his head but the rise and fall of his chest enough to show he was only knocked unconscious. Turning on his heel James rushed to where Victoria and Steve stood, pulling a gun from the holster he handed the weapon to Victoria.

"You're going to get out of here. If Steve and I don't make it you empty the mag and you run. You understand?"

Victoria nodded mutely, her brown eyes skimming across James' face as she reached for the pistol, the cool gunmetal reassuring beneath her fingers as she measured the weight of it. Bucky tried not to flinch when he saw the bruises marring her skin, the dark circles around her eyes harshly lit by the florescent lighting and the bulge across her bicep revealing the sloppy treatment of her injury.

"Stay here." Steve added, before giving her a tight smile. Nodding briefly Victoria shuffled away from the pair so her back was to the wall, hands wrapped around the gun.

The two super soldiers walked out into the open, the HYDRA agents quick to swarm around them, weapons bristling as they shifted in their steel capped boots, arms rolling under inches of body armour. They had come prepared, but it wasn't enough and they knew it.

"Four each?" James questioned lightly, the smallest of grins tugging at his lips as he inclined his head towards Captain America.

"I've had worse odds." Steve shrugged carelessly, his shield fixed to his arm.

Bucky nodded, signifying that their brief impasse was over.

Exploding into action the Winter Soldier surged forwards, his left arm wrenching a machine gun free from his first opponent as he heard the familiar song of Steve's shield slicing through the air. Turning his attention back towards his opponent James drove the butt of the rifle into the man's head. Taking his adversary's dead weight into his arms the assassin quickly span round, using the unconscious HYDRA agent as a shield as the man's colleagues opened fire.

Driving forwards Bucky all but threw the unconscious man at another opponent before he fired off a round of bullets, the projectiles ripping through the body armour, the second man falling to the ground in a heap of limbs. Powering onwards Bucky hit the ground, sliding along the tarmac he drove a fist into a man's leg, the sound of bone breaking and a scream of agony following. Leaping back to his feet the Winter Soldier threw a sharp hook at his last remaining opponent; the man staggered backwards, taking the advantage James drove his leg into the HYDRA agent's chest. Two sharp blows to the head followed and the man fell to the floor, rendered unconscious.

Glancing to his left James saw Steve shoulder his shield; four men in a similar state surrounded him. Picking his way through the writhing bodies James smiled down on the only man remaining conscious, his hands wrapped around his leg as what looked suspiciously like bone peaked through his blood covered fingers.

Bending down James whispered against the man's ear, "You can tell your masters I am no longer theirs to control."

A small groan escaped the man's lips as Bucky rose to his feet; Steve was already walking towards him, Victoria in tow.

"We need to leave," Steve muttered, his eyes gaze skimming the perimeter of the car park. "C'mon."

* * *

Victoria crawled into the back seat of the sedan Steve had requisition from Stark Industries. Glancing over her shoulder she stiffened as Bucky joined her, his eyes shooting hesitantly towards her every so often as Steve turned the ignition and pulled out from the parking lot. Buckling her seatbelt the blonde sunk back into the leather chair, crossing one leg over the other she leaned into the door, her face pressed against the cool glass of the window as she attempted to take stock. Her friend was dead at the hands of HYRDA, she had been forced to leave her home and job whilst being pursued by nameless gunmen. Her life had been upended all because she had shown a stranger a modicum of kindness. Because it was deemed she now had intimate knowledge of "an asset." Biting her lip Victoria could feel her traitorous tears slip past her eyelids and stream down her cheeks.

"Hey," James whispered, his hand reaching out to capture her chin and gently turn her face to his. Brushing away the tears with his thumb James sighed. "I'm sorry."

Victoria shook her head roughly, sobs beginning to wrack her body. "Please don't…"

"Don't what?" James questioned, his fingers itching to touch the rest of her. The urge to surround himself with Victoria, to feel her heart beat against his chest and her limbs wrap around his was overwhelming. He wanted to hold her, to become intimately acquainted with every contour of her body, he wanted to kiss every inch of her, to own every blemish across her skin. But he couldn't - not now.

"Goddammit," Victoria growled, her hands clenching into fists as she roughly wiped her eyes. "Don't start apologising James. I chose to help you and I chose to get involved. So don't blame yourself because HYDRA sent its jackbooted thugs after me."

"But you're only on their radar because of me…" James whispered fiercely, turning in his seat to face the blonde he reached out to cup her face with both his hands. "I can't let you become the next name on a list of innocent casualties Victoria. You're not collateral damage."

Victoria shuddered, the cool metal of his mechanical arm a sharp contrast to his flesh and blood one. Leaning into him she sighed, her head landing against Bucky's shoulder as she breathed him in – gunmetal and soap.

"For better or worse they know bout me." Victoria sighed, her warm breath tickling the side of James' neck and he shifted beneath her, his body hot agains hers. "They wanted me to tell them where you were."

"That was all?" James questioned thickly.

"Yeah, why?"

"Because that means they don't think I'm emotionally compromised. Which means you're safe for now."

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry this update took longer than the others! Work really kicked my ass last week. I also apologise for it being shorter than the last few instalments.

I promise next chapter there will be lots more from James' point of view. Hope you enjoyed this one and as always thanks for all the response. Please leave a review and let me know what you think - they really do make my day.


	14. Chapter 14

"A story: A man fires a rifle for many years, and he goes to war. And afterward he turns the rifle in at the armory, and he believes he's finished with the rifle. But no matter what else he might do with his hands, love a woman, build a house, change his son's diaper; his hands remember the rifle."

– _Jarhead_

* * *

James sat cramped in the car; the seatbelt pulled across his chest held him in an uncomfortable vice like grip as he threw a surreptitious glance in Victoria's direction. The blonde had failed to say anything further after their initial conversation upon entering the vehicle. Having briefly clung to his shoulders Victoria had released her grip and slid across the backseat, a small but telling distance between them. Lifting her hand to brush away an errant strand of hair Victoria noticed the slight tremor in her muscles; biting on her lip she crossed her legs before sandwiching her hand between her thighs. Heaving a shuddering breath Victoria willed herself to calm down, to shake the now ever lingering presence of fear from her body.

Resisting the urge to pull her into him James shuffled back into his seat, his eyes flitting towards Steve, the super soldier's hands were gripped tightly around the steering wheel. The sudden urge to vomit rose in James' throat, pressing the button placed in the side of the door he wound the window down a crack, the sudden stream of cool air sucked into the car hit him full in the face. Closing his eyes he breathed in deeply, great lungfuls of air going someway to ease the swirling storm of doubt that gripped his stomach.

Clenching the door handle James could feel the plastic groaning under the strain of his metal hand, forcing his eyes shut James slowly released his grip on the handle. His stomach settled, his heart no longer pounding against his rib cage as it did its best attempt to break loose. Victoria was still silent beside him, the rhythmic thrumming of Steve's fingers against the dash the only noise that filled the car.

"Can it would ya?" James grunted, his blue eyes meeting Steve's gaze in the rear view as the flash of anger passing across his face was reflected back at him in the mirror.

"Sorry," Steve muttered bashfully and almost immediately Bucky was mollified.

"Put the radio on or something…" James sighed as he reined in the anger; there was no point yelling at Steve, no matter how good it would feel for a second. The inevitable crippling, gut-rotting guilt would set in, the anger having long abated and the empty self-indulgent pity fest would follow. Already the nagging thoughts were beginning to scratch at his brain, he hadn't even known her for half a minute and her life was tainted. The dark murky water that was his past was reaching out for her, so close to pulling her under, so close to taking her life as recompense for his own.

James forced back a shudder; his thoughts dragging him down a dangerous road, one that would have him leave her behind. He couldn't let anything happen to her and the quickest way to secure her safety would be to remove himself from her life. But as always when he tried to think his way through the necessary steps to see the plan into fruition he would take the coward's way out. He was too attached to her, too caught up in how she made him feel, how she chased away the nightmare that was his cold dark history.

Suddenly the inspired tones of Miles Davis filled the sedan as Steve quickly clocked the miles and drove them back to New York, Avengers Tower their destination. Clenching his jaw James buckled down for the drive.

* * *

Poking idly at the teabag Natasha waited for her drink to finish brewing; growing impatient the red head used her spoon to expedite the process. A few moments later she was rewarded with a scalding hot cup of Moroccan mint tea, a small spoonful of honey added to sweeten the brew.

"Are you going to come into the kitchen, or are you just going to loiter Clint?" The spy called out loftily over her shoulder, her red hair tumbling down her back as she dislodged the locks from their previous resting place.

"Loiter? You make me sound like some sort of pervert."

"Oh but you are a pervert." Natasha span round on her chair, shooting her partner a wide grin before it was quickly snatched away again, her face half hidden by the large mug that was currently pressed against her lips.

"You ok?" Clint questioned, easing himself into the seat next to her with the lithe grace of an acrobat that neither Steve nor Bucky could ever hope to achieve. "I heard about what happened with you and Barnes."

"Nothing I couldn't handle," Natasha shrugged carelessly.

"Nat…" Clint shot back and his partner could sense the diatribe that the archer was forcing down.

"He's not himself." Natasha blew against the liquid in her mug, deciding that it really wasn't worth burnt lips "You still have the scar don't you?"

"Natasha it's not the same…" Clint began slowly.

"Because you're not in love him?" Natasha replied wryly, her lips quirking at the corner. "I stabbed you with a butter knife Clint. It didn't matter that you'd saved me, it didn't matter that you trying to help me. They were in the middle of deprogramming me and a switch was tripped. That's all it took and I was back to default setting, a feral creature that saw everything as a threat and would do whatever it took to survive. It took me so long to find Natasha, to find who I really was. Every so often I'd switch back, and all there would be is the mission. Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape. That's what they left me with when they stripped it all away; I had to fight to build it back. To filter out what was the truth and what was some manufactured lie that my handlers thought would be useful."

Clint huffed slightly before doing his best to lighten the mood. "I looked at the security footage, I'm pretty sure Barnes was throwing cutlery at you."

Natasha smirked, "The Red Room teaches you how to improvise."

"Improvise?"

"The West makes you into lazy soldiers, always reliant on your guns." Natasha replied somewhat derisively, an exaggerated accent falling from her lips.

"And what are you reliant on, your thighs?" Clint joked, his gaze passing quickly over her small frame.

"Please stop with the thigh jokes. If Tony hears you he'll make us all watch GoldenEye again and pause the thing just went Famke Janssen starts choking out that guy. We'll all then be subjected to an hour symposium on how the character of Xenia Onatopp was based on me." Natasha rolled her eyes before quickly sobering. "I'm reliant on myself Clint – you know that."

"I wish you wouldn't be…" Clint muttered before he could stop himself, his teeth grinding together as he griped the fabric of his trousers, already ruing the words.

Natasha bit back a small sigh, her hand shooting out to clasp Clint's. "It's how I'm made Clint. It doesn't mean I trust you any less, it doesn't mean that I don't believe in you. And it doesn't mean I don't rely on you. Who else am I going to beat up in the training room?"

Clint chuckled, "Tony?"

"Pfft!" Natasha waved her hand dismissively. "Not even a challenge. You at least can land a punch."

"Oh thank you," Clint deadpanned. "I'm so glad you appreciate my talents."

"Of course I do," Natasha replied, all traces of humour were gone, her green eyes heavy with emotion. "You were ordered to take a kill shot and I survived. You _never_ miss."

"Nat you know I'd never hold that over your head right?" Clint whispered, his voice and eyes suddenly insistent and urgent.

The red head nodded, "I know, but I'll always owe you a debt…"

"Dammit Tasha, there is no debt. I'm not going to call in some IOU and remind you I didn't assassinate you whenever I want something. "

"God." Natasha shuddered, her hand reaching out to cup Clint's cheek. "You're something else you know that?"

"What do you mean?" Clint asked softly, his voice a husky burr.

"You know where I came from, nothing was given away for free. Favours were traded for favours, secrets for money and blood…. You're just incredibly _decent _Clint."

The archer shook his head, "Not always. I killed our own remember?"

"Loki was controlling you Clint," Natasha sighed. "A god with a magic sceptre. It wasn't you and no one blames you for what happened."

"Is this your way of telling me I have more in common with Barnes than I'm willing to admit? That I should cut him slack because he's going through what you did, only about ten times worse?"

"Yes and no," Natasha shrugged. "We're all twisted and broken, doing our best to hold ourselves together with vodka and glue. James is just like the rest of us, except he isn't as far along and he isn't as good at hiding it. When he gets over his reflex to kill maybe I can help him. Maybe you can help him too. Because that's what we do now – we help people."

"You ever gonna let me help you?" Clint questioned, softly.

"You already help me in ways you couldn't possibly comprehend." Natasha whispered, pressing her forehead against the archer's the spy breathed in. "I'm going to try and get some sleep before they come back."

"You think Victoria's ok?"" Clint asked suddenly, pulling back so his blue eyes could meet his partner's.

"She has Captain America and the Winter Soldier in her corner, she'll come back whole." Natasha's voice was firm, her gaze steady as she offered the archer a small smile. Unwrapping her limbs from around Clint she pressed a chaste kiss against the Avenger's temple and Natasha was gone. All that was left was an empty mug and the lingering scent of vanilla in the air.

Clint slumped against the counter top, marshalling his thoughts he finally pushed off. Grabbing the discarded mug he deposited it in the half empty dishwasher before making his way to his room. As with every conversation he had with Natasha, Clint felt like he'd gone ten rounds with her in the ring, nothing was lost to the ex KGB spy and she rarely pulled her punches. Scratching the back of his neck the archer bit back a sigh as he toed off his boots and stripped down to his boxers. Hastily brushing his teeth Clint tumbled into bed, Natasha's words echoing through his head.

It was easy to understand why the two were inextricably tied together – war and redemption would do that to was easy to understand why, after Bobbi and Kate, Natasha was the one to hold onto his heart. Natasha had always believed that love was for children. Clint didn't agree. What she was talking about was infatuation. Because Clint knew that every fibre of his being loved her. There was nothing transient or fleeting about what he felt. Natasha was a permanent feature, a fixed point, engrained into his skin, his heart and soul. It wasn't just love; there was anger and regret and everything in between. At times it felt like she was his world.

Clint groaned into his pillow - he was getting sentimental, Natasha would kick his ass.

* * *

James could feel Victoria next to him, the sound of her stuttered breathing filling the small space they currently occupied. Her blonde hair was mussed and her eyes only half focused as she swayed gently on the spot, playing with the hem of her shirt. The lift pinged and the doors suddenly opened to reveal one of the many residential floors.

Shuffling out into the corridor Victoria sighed, her gaze suddenly snapping back into focus.

"Do you have a medical kit in your room?" James sharply questioned, rounding on the blonde before hastily pulling back, very much aware that he could be crowding her.

"Yeah, there's one in the kitchen."

"Ok," Bucky nodded solemnly. "Let me look at your arm before you go to sleep."

Gently nudging Victoria with the tips of his fingers he was rewarded by the blonde taking several steps forward. Tailing Victoria at what he felt to be a respectful distance the ex-assassin followed her into her room.

Slumping onto one of the bar stools that lined the small breakfast bar Victoria motioned to one of the cupboards mounted along the wall. Taking her meaning James quickly moved through the kitchen, opening the door he retrieved the first aid kit.

"I'm going to need you to help with your shirt, ok?" James muttered softly as he unzipped the bag, removing the necessary materials.

Victoria nodded mutely; James shuffled towards her, his hands skimming the bottom of the shirt as he waited for silent permission. The jerk of Victoria's chin was virtually imperceptible but James didn't wait any longer, slowly rolling the fabric up her sides he took pains not to touch her. Lifting her arms Victoria winced at the action, Bucky quickly whipped the shirt over her head and set it on the counter.

The skin across her ribs was mottled, dark angry bruising marring her tanned skin.

"Does it hurt when you breathe?" James questioned.

"Some." Victoria shrugged.

"I'm gonna tape up your ribs ok? Then I'll look at your arm."

Washing and drying his hands at the sink James began to dress Victoria's wounds, having had to stitch up his own injuries when on an op he wasn't exactly a stranger to the pungent smell of iodine and surgical needles.

"I'm sorry." Bucky finally whispered, as he wrapped a bandage around the freshly dressed wound in Victoria's arm.

"This isn't a conversation we need to have James," Victoria sighed softly, her brown eyes fluttering upwards as she stared at him through her lashes. "I don't blame you, there's nothing you have to be sorry for."

"They went after you because of me. Every bruise, every cut, they're because of me." Lurching forwards James just stopped short of grabbing her, his heart pounding against his chest as Victoria licked her lips. Slowly moving to her feet she pressed herself flush against him.

"You helped save me James, for every cut and bruise I have now I'd have ten more if you hadn't have come with Steve." Victoria brushed her hand across James' mechanical arm before her fingers travelled down the metal plates and knotted together with his own digits.

"I'm still a danger Victoria, being with – around me – paints a target across your back." James made to step away but Victoria's arm tugged insistently at his own.

"Seriously, for a reformed bad guy you have one hell of a hero complex." Victoria smiled, her eyes dancing with humour before sobering. "Don't you think I'm safer here, for the time being at least? I'm pretty sure HYDRA draw those targets with indelible ink. I'm in too deep now James."

A pained look fluttered across Bucky's features before he marshalled the muscles in his face.

"Thank you." James finally whispered, pulling the blonde into his chest and burying his face in the crook of her neck.

"No thanks necessary," Victoria replied. Her fingers coiling into his shirt as she pulled him closer into her body, not caring about her bruised ribs.

Kissing the delicate skin of Victoria's neck James relaxed against her. For a moment everything began and ended with her. For a moment he could pretend to be whole. For a moment they were just two people entangled, hearts twisted and ensnared. He couldn't – wouldn't – lose her to the dark.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry for the long wait! I ended up watching the Hurt Locker and going on a ridiculous Jeremy Renner binge.

Speaking of, I hope I wrote the Clint/Natasha scene well. I'm thinking of moving this into the Cap/Avengers crossover section as it would seem to fit more. Not entirely sure yet.

Again, I hope the parallels and role reversal wasn't all too in your face. But then, maybe I'm not all that subtle.

Thanks for the reviews/follows etc and once more - please review and let me know what you think! Feedback and thoughts are well and truly wanted.


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